VD

What is this madness?
A designated moment of affection,
In memory of holy Immolation?
We stand for this mockery?
This trampling of a sacred ideal,
In it its place somthing unreal?
Disease runs rampant and trust runs thin,
Lust flows thickly, though quickly,
Through these sickly streets,
Filling our nostrils with its vile stench,
Walking corpses fill the walks,
The air rings with their nonsensical talks,
Words of Love and Fidelity,
Though hollow, lacking reality,
All this said, I know these things to be true:
Love, genuine, love be real,
With it ye never need lie, cheat, nor steal,
It's currency is absolute,
Though more rare than the most precious of gems,
It carries on through all toils,
Despite all obsticles and attempted foils,
It gives you wings to soar,
And gives somthing to live for.
Though love be true,
Though I have seen it's mark,
I fear that I know not it's face,
And have done my part for said disgrace,
I plead forgiveness for these sins,
And hope that a new path, now, begins.
May you all, and I, ond day,
Find our One.