Transgressions

I make myself dizzy with great demands
Lest I fall in darker clutches,
Ones of tepid remorse.

I make myself busy with crafty hands
Grasping for greatness,
I call my helpless muse.

I abuse, but a crime is lacking to accuse;
I'd like to think that I amuse.
Does she fancy me a ruse?
No.

Remind me to think about nothing for a while,
That my hands may rest;
And I'll try not to remember you so vile,
My treasonous guest.

The End

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