these others couldn’t face it plain
why would they care, what was to gain?
such comfort found in wicked ways
they’d follow boys into their plays
taught to rot right from the inside
through boldest lies they’d run and hide
twist the minds of those who’d make
reflections of the ways they’d take
hide, they would, in chiseled thought
they’d see — not care — of all it wrought
deep down, perhaps, they’d one day feel
that Goddess Love was awfully real
