Am I not a mortal, born into sin;
An imperfect man, destined to transgress?
Shall I stand condemned for the beast within;
Tendering prayers entreating forgiveness?
No! I'll abandon virtue for thy kiss,
The warmth of your skin on my fingertips,
And whispers shrouded in the Dragon's mist –
Where carnal urges rise and reason slips.
Each time I see you, I long to confess
This fault; to admit the concupiscence
Burning through my body. Though, what blessing
Would that bring, when lust o'erwhelms innocence?
Your touch alone
can sate this desire,
And damn my soul to the eternal fire.