A pot of gold amidst desolation,
A welcoming arm in my frustration,
An irresistible offer of rare delicacies:
Yes, this could be one of his conspiracies!
His words have shown you paradise,
Only to discover that it’s an island full of lies.
His promises have spawned your fantasies,
All of which ended in bitter tragedies.
He takes you to the middle of the sea,
With a vow of everlasting company,
Now you see yourself, alone, adrift,
Conspiracies have taken your life so swift.
Ecstasy was his voice, heroin was his smile,
You were addicted, deranged, deceived and beguiled.
After everything he has done, there you sit in isolation
Where’s that pot of gold amidst your desolation?
Second in a series of hate poems.