Judgement

Wisely, I am not the world's whore.
Therefore, I am not yours.
Sometimes I wish you were no longer here anymore,
you might revel in the freedom.
When I reach the end of the corridor,
you may not be there.
Dangerously, I would miss you.
Others know what is best for me.
I ponder their omnipotence.
Usually, I long to agree,
however, you are wrong.
When darkness falls on the moment of truth,
I measure by my judgment.
Written as if all were aloof,
I push you out of my mind with words.
Laying on my resting place of thorns,
I roll over to your likeness.
From the world my heart has been torn,
Therefore, I am not yours.
July 1, 1998