Oh, how childish you have been!
But perhaps it's nothing new.
Letting love control you, dear,
And now your acts you rue.

Changing boys on a whim,
Accepting all their woos,
Then after they take you to bed,
They leave you. Oh, how cruel.

And now you feel all torn apart,
Because of some dumb lad!
Ye reapeth what ye sow,
My dear, so quit your being sad.

Why should you feel all down and blue?
Is it that you cannot see
That these boys all have made you a whore,
A fool for all to see?

I'm sure you'll find this poem most foul,
And ask, "Why do you my sorrow rend?"
'Cause you brought it on yourself, my dear,
So let your weakness end.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Scarlatan, in the year 404 AF.