A tortuous quest for an answer;
for every day is discomfiture.
the misconceptions perpetuate
the myth of me as the source of depravity
why I respond with sufficient passion?
the rendition to my conscience
persuades me.
My longing to be amaranth,
the thought seeps through years of paled cognizance;
layers of denial restrain me.
My mind, so insuppressible,
leads me on with fraudulency.
Why, I ask why?
The inquisition occupies my mind-
like the raven that compels him mad.