Literature
Passion
On a throne of desire, he sits
Waiting, watching, all with a grin
Knowing his power, and the chaos he beckons
From underneath his crown of dreams.
He is our supreme ruler, our curse,
A greedy voice in the back of our heads,
Always begging us, "more, more"
Dragging our emotions deeper than they should be
He leads our hearts and minds,
Urging us to obey his whims
Putty in his nimble hands,
We, his marionettes, him, our master.
He entices us, never deterred,
Forever irresistible, no matter how unwanted,
And we succumb to him and his cruel depth,
Following the beating of the drum
That he so gladly pounds out.