Away from yonder, her demon shies,
Her exotic mask of decorative feature,
Indifferent, the indignant creature.
The Jester's puppet strings do dance,
Complacent merely with the glance,
Fate turned in his unfortunate direction,
Heedless of his unrequited affection.
He sings her a love song of riddles and rhymes,
Inuendo hidden by his chaotic mimes,
From her glittering twilight she doth not recall,
That ever a dusk might visit at all.
Yet far above dark night descends,
A butterfly knows, not what transcends,
In moonlight's crimson black embrace,
At an onyx constellation's grace.
In his relentless pining and conspiring,
Her resistance of him slowly tiring,
The moon did rise to dark her twinkling,
And the Jester seizing on this inkling,
Thought he had finally encaptured,
The object that his heart enraptured,
So condemned eternal to night's dark tide,
Butterfly unwilling, the Jetser's bride.
Unbeknownst how flew in his direction,
The Jester's object of affection,
His smile and gloating gleam of eye,
Burned through the pitch blanket of the sky,
Thus she seized on his foolish jubilation,
And ensured his eternal humiliation,
Beauty masked her wicked trait,
The Jester, fell swiftly for the bait.
So flutter by, dark butterfly,
Feign innocent to the darkness nigh,
The Jester's strings puppeted by your whim,
By your gilded shell that encaptured him.
A novice fool to love such a one,
A folly never to be undone,
You fluttered by a-luring butterfly,
Weaving siren song from sweet lullaby.