Babble From a Stranger

Little things, Golden rings

Little things, golden rings

Wrapped around a fourth finger, for what reason?

Glistening circles with endless paths, rotate relentlessly.

Either to shackle with insincerity and held solely by empty promise

Or embracing eternal devotion, a rare bond unbroken, unmatched.

Little things, golden rings

Mutated memories of malice leave

Jarring fright which leads to a mystified mindset

milling over the possibility of a miserable future.

Circumstances spit at me, jeering at my hopes to accept the delight

Orbiting the intention of this gifted metal.

Little things, golden rings

Still terrifying but truthful in nature.

Innocent- no fault of its own,

For fault cannot be done by an inanimate golden band and is he not faultless?

Spiral around my hand and heart, become one with my skin, Little, golden ring.