Sonnet #665

A heady, deep-seated twang of deceit
clouds shift to mimic the minds third eye,
Mist spills like milk, across the clotted, seedy streets.
The grotesque bend as they intentionally blind,
images flicker as doubt settles,
A dead boy and girl dance in the moonlight,
Curious fingers that mischievously mettle,
The world dark and dangerous, absent of all fractured lights,
He promises her protection from evil:
A young love, that disappears before dawn-
She promises a love with no equal:
Broken bodies littered across manicured lawns-
“A crime of passion” the naive will cry
“They deserved to die, die, die, die-