Fabulous Disaster

Would she be wearing a fuchsia hued sin?
Now that he's wearing out and thin -
All stretched out on a hopeful horizon,
Balancing the scales within

He'd rather confabulate a fabulous disaster-
Murder his imbecile yet celibate master-
For desires as delicate as gatling guns,
Were sinking his sanity and a heart cast in plaster

Therefore, his positively potential bride,
Obviously oblivious in her Bengali pride,
Lit his freedom's pyre and watched his soul escape,
Before deciding to let his fate decide.

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