Was it simply a sick and insurmountable desire for something innocent?
Or was it simply faith that made me believe true love does not fixate on age?
I could never distinguish the two.
For days and nights
My heart lives solitarily in a maze
And there was no one, to walk with me, through this daze.
I am sick
I am a lover
She was my savior.
They view me as a villain
But how could anyone resist?
The stainless and polish skin
The joyous and heavenly laughter
The smile that mends a broken heart in this crippled society
How could anyone resist?
I adore her innocence,
But the minute my hands laid upon her,
I knew it was dead and gone.
And one day,
As I sit in my old chair, watching my Lolita escape out of my sight
My heart was also dead and gone.
But it was then, I no longer have desire for any nymphets other than her.
And it was the day, when I saw her after plenty years,
pale and polluted with other man’s child,
That I realized,
No matter what,
I loved her.
But I almost killed her.
(p.s. for anyone who has completly no idead what this is about, Its a poem inspired by the book"Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov! IT'S ENCHANTING.)