We so triumphed in the public's eye Behind the facade of our disguise Our wit so challenged by our youth Too young and proud to mouth the truth My triumph dulls upon my age Applauding the opulence of my cage My wit, so burned by time's cruel irony Calming the once great fire in me Our love a handsome gift to life Fortifying hearts, and forgetting strife We held the hands of rhyme and reason While partaking in the senses treason My love is wilted upon reason's cries Feelings clouding, as senses rise Broken? No. But a shadow, yes. And still now, my wit won't rest I beseech my mind for release and reason But forgiveness is not in senses treason An amend, announced in my moonlit state My wit drives my courage to exacerbate I smile and gloat in my clever ambition Too proud to lie or give contention But as I sit in my glib protection I stand unaware of wit's defection