The broken fang of your pride slits the veneer I create
each day
and I confuse myself in knowing why.
The light of the rising dawn slices my misconceptions and makes my sight anew, but it is not enough to slake your lust, your need to have me under the heel.
You indulge my whim but restrict my need, and for that you are not forgiven.
Much has been lost to the hordes of blindness and fools.
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