As if she didn't know she was rummaging with someone’s life by her actions. Existence of mistakes only creates resentment of things that should have been done. I feel as if someone watches my every move plotting on what belongs to me. I am the protector of the unanticipated feelings of conspiracy of love. Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest undying. How strong does my passion flow,Divided equally between us two? In a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none, does she not realize her love is long gone. It is all a dream within a dream, an illusion of once could have been seen. He in reality is nothing more than a absent lover but to her he is the designed for she. Her foolish heart so foolish for her own good, little does she know she will never be where she thought his heart once stood. In the end he is mine, through floods or fire I will always be the one he designed.
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