The Lust

The Lust
Of pleasure in its uncaring manner  
Wherever it leads it goes its way
Along impulsive avenues to wicked ends
To destinies that smell so sweet
Whatever is there, whoever is there
A target, unaware of her identity
The innocent with her guard down
Hunted down by pleasure’s hunger
The wild beast within
Rushes along impatient
Of love’s noble course
Not hearing the call of the rider
Nor feeling the jerk of the reins
It does what it does
To whoever is
There for the taking

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