It was his black swan
No-one would have thought
That empty feeling
When a nice girl’s fallen
But the icon of her name’s still pure

All it took was a gander
Obtuse, thoughts intrusive

She has different faces, not moons
In her eyes, no stars
Only one’s surprise there’s
No weeknight left to fallow

Now she bears a scarlet letter
Cursed digits, beastly symbols
A calculus that we all hide
And runs us blind