A Perpetual Abyss of Incompetence

It was neither his tenuous charm
Nor was it his fair eyes,
That had procured me by the hand-
And helmed me his way.
 
It was the house of his fire,
Which kept me as his slave.
It was the peril of disdain,
That impelled me to bed.
 
Oh, the bed of incompetence,
Which can mar any wit,
Lure me into propinquity,
And maim anyone’s soul.
 
In any given time or place
I find no escape, for
In the precepts of his world
I stand still so confined.
 
As the trap is never broken,
A perpetual abyss.
For it secured itself within
The chambers of my mind.