Oh and she asked,

“Why was it that you drew me?”

I lied and said,

“Just because.”

Ode,
if my honest heart did ring.
Who am I to love sing?

Was it not I who was labelled,

THE DESTROYER OF WOLDS

by all of those shattered hearts?

Chiefly my own?

But he did tell me,

“Art is not without casualties.”

And the Wagon Driver said,

“Were I willful, bodies would fly.”

And my friend told me,

“Just let it be.”

And I cried,

“Ribbono Shel Olum, what am I to do?”