Two Rings Under a Bloody Rug
My perspectives lessen with the very ballrooms I've crept in,
The swaying dancers that waltz along the quilted beige silk,
In each hand is a sweat that remembers a bet,
This bet that lingers under their dancing quartet,
This bet may have been forgotten between a ode to regret,
A ring here, a thought there, a check nearest to chess,
Consider it done, their favorite pronunciation towards lies,
So pack up, dim the lights, watch them leave the room softly,
Because they are read... ready... envious to die
