ottava rima

if my ears could ring with that dark tormenti'd always be in a dress on my knees.but don't forget i'm not an instrument, see you used to say i was a jar of beez.no longer do i search for an excuse to repent,those sweet lies spill from my lips with great easeand pour love into your mouth while you sleepyour blues beckon black seraphs, listen and weep.