Your voice is like ice to my blood,
Once an object of lust, now a target of my despise
Your voice tugs on the loose thread of my marriage,
threatening to unravel all i hold dear,
Your voice paints pictures of yesterday,
yet I must live in today,
and in forever with my Elizabeth,
Your voice has been both the fire which burns in my heart,
and also the fire which has set fire to my once honorable, and honest home,
Your voice commands the hearts of good men,
to do unnatural things,
it is as deceitful, as it is dangerous,
Your voice is beatiful,
yet insidious,
always beguiling,
Your voice to most would sound faultless,
yet to my ears it is macabre,
A slow dance of death
Your voice has wronged me,
yet more so it has wronged those I love,
for that it is foul,
Your words are those of a harlot,
you have no sway over me.