My Beautiful David. You slew giants for me.
Bathsheba.
Placed her wicked font in front of you.
You watched. You fell
in.
David,
With your harp you sung our vows.
My loins bore your sons while
Bathsheba’s
loins bore your passion.
You, had to kill for
Bathsheba
had to be obtained,
so you killed me.
My body contracted in death,
alone on the cold marble tile, while
Bathsheba
held you tight in her fat adulteress arms.
David,
Oh what a tangled web you weave,
to cover your deceit.
You sent everything in to battle, for
Bathsheba.
Nothing came back.
Everything died in your lustful war.
David,
Now your bitter tears fill the seductive font of
Bathsheba,
in which all your dreams have drowned.
I ,
the holder of your once sung vows
slowly die.
I,
understand why
The King declared This the sin next to murder.
Adultery, causes the soul to die.
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