in retrospect, the ruse was clear,
but afterthought does little good,
and despite all, youve grown so dear,
now im not thinking as i should.
steadily these walls are built,
unseen, lest i should glance behind,
and out of endless rifts of guilt,
are forged the very chains that bind,
the soul is gleaned to mirror thin,
and far more easily, tis broken,
by most innocent of whim,
and simple as words left unspoken,
curse the kingdom built and felled,
as both prisoner and master,
Delilah, smiles amongst her hell,
heart encased, in alabaster.