He saw her every day, but never did she gaze his way,
Though he knew she was forbidden, still, he refused to let those thoughts decay,
From moment first was there a spark of light;
Within eyes dark and wise; so keen to write.

There was a devotion to do right by her,
Sophia, ironically named for an angel, with her twisted façade;
Slowly did she creep her grasp deeper into mind, soul, and heart,
A mistake overlooked from the start;
All that remains is a sliver of sanity and feelings ripped apart.

Eyes awaken dazed and confused,
What kind of dream leaves you battered and abused?
Does my reflection fib my appearance;
No, my heart is indeed ripped out.