Lost in the lybrinth of life,  
Intrigued with new challenges    
Sucked up with strife and sweat,          Engulfed in twilight   
Of despair and gloom,   
The poor soul heads towards her last resort    
Nerves yearing to rest a while   

Oh! the breezes blow    
The maze complicates    
Out of proportion    
Leaving her caught    
In the mystery    

Naivete asserts hard    
And still beguiled    
Sneaks in the sin     
Stalking to seduce    
And the beauty is duped by the beast    

Recently a copy of  Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles caught my eye and these lines I wrote about the tragic upset in the life of Tess.



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