In Chaste Conversation

I suffer from many addictions
Sins encased within glass vials

I choose to drink these self-afflictions
My curse
Among this world’s maledictions, I disburse
With a fool's grace, a conniving benediction

Into believing themselves grand
I fool the meager

More than what they’re eager to be
I became a pawn’s mercenary
In this masquerade heresy
As I beleaguered the royalty
Who cursed my name

I cursed them just the same
And my judgment amused a devious ploy

Who would be so coy
To banter in song and dance
And ridicule these weapons
That fail to question
And continue to answer entranced

I’m inebriated by sarcasm
And the lifeless lives of the sober

I still suffer from many addictions
These sins are followed closely by contradictions