I watch you from so far away, unable to reach you as I am shackled to this skull and bones throne of propriety. You stand there alone, surrounded by legions of nascent Olympians. Every inch of you, from your cinnamon hair to your angel-winged feet, glistens from the covering of the juice of their passion. My heart is on fire. Yet my blazing heart falls broken to the floor, nothing but angry ashes, ripped out of my body and dashed upon jagged rocks by chords fashioned from the hair of Delilah the betrayer. There was once a hero who could break those bonds. I have his same source of strength. But will it be there for me? What road must I travel to find you? You, who are the only one who is loyal. You, the only one who is pure.