Gold does not rust,
Only mixed with the wrong element, does it combust.
I am gold-plated,
Give me time and I will be ill-fated.
Though you admire my beauty,
True adoration does not suit me.
Your mouth says you have not been fooled,
Through your bite, my quality overruled.
Though you may falsely wear me with utmost pride,
Under your jaw, I hear you chide.
Please save me from the internal.
For you are Midas, and together we are infernal.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Euterpe
PoetryThis is a collection of poems that I wrote years ago and have since rediscovered.
