Oh, you scoundrel, <br />Which I deal with every day, <br />How I hate you so, <br />When you must govern my life, <br />As if I have no control over you. <br />You fiend, which feasts on my pain, <br />How I hate you when you come at my direst hour, <br />Flourishing from my torment, <br />And thriving off my desperation. <br /> <br />O, Desire, who do you think you are? <br />That you can give your victims pain? <br />And make your hosts suffer plight? <br />Who are you to make people suffer in life, <br />To give them endless strife, <br />To deprive them of every bit of happiness in this world? <br />To give them pride, <br />And to give them vanity, <br />Which makes them fall in the end? <br />Who are you to make me suffer? <br />Who are you to make humans suffer? <br />Oh, you know no limits. <br /> <br />You foul fiend, you cruel cretin, <br />You shrewd scoundrel, you wily weasel, <br />You know no limits and can take of whomever you please, <br />But I have learned that, <br />Unlike Lucifer, <br />In his Miltonic plight, <br />That virtue conquers all <br />And shall give me hope in life.<br /><br />Justin Reamer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desire-154/
