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Ideals
Like grains of sugar falling
So fall the flakes of snow
Though answering that calling
They don't on tongue same glow
I kiss her plump, rose petal lips
They'd say it's pure, dark sin
And like that, too, they taste like wine
If wine can taste like skin
And her soul is rich, so virtuous
Or so projects my mind
Ans so when she smiles, hand in my pocket
I tell myself she's kind
I tell myself she loves me
I tell myself she cares
I tell myself that she's the one
I tell myself she's rare
And as I walk home late at night
And see so much despair
I ask if this human disease
Deserves such unreal air
For most it's just conquest, only the will
To control him or her
And those that have lost the will to control
Would destroy or help defer
The will I am, the will I was, to only help shed light
On how contrived, unnecessary
Was man's 20th century plight
Like grains of sugar falling
So fall the flakes of snow
And poetry, one calling
Of it, one day, man may let go
