She’s a chimera, a “Helen of Troy”,
Yet not worth a battle; much less a war.
Chooses perdition with a well-aged boy
Who’s haughty vernacular masks the bore.
Constant convalescence and puerile pleas,
Dear boy married her to offset costage.
In spite of every fantasy disease,
Helen enjoys opulence as hostage.
Can’t hold a candle, ‘til death do you part.
Helen admits it was doomed from the start.
Oblivious boy’s euphoric with words,
Chirping away like seasonal birds.
Poor Helen’s lost in her own innocence
And accepts the peril of despondence.