Destiny turned Her back on Faith,
And quickly gave Her hand to Chance.

Chance retaliated
by bringing negativity to Her equation.

Before this situation,
She’d always been safe.

She’d had enough unfortunate experiences
To understand...risks weren’t wise to take.

But She couldn’t pry Herself away from Chance’s grip.
Each day She found herself wanting more of Him,

…even while lying next to Her husband.

Her husband was such a fine man.
He was Divine, the gentle man.

She did the math;
Safe multiplied by 2 equaled-
Boredom.

And there was something about Her circumstance,
That was ever so difficult to stomach.

She knew exactly what that thing was, indeed.
She mourned the death of Spontaneity.

Excitement was past-tense stillborn,
And before long She’d given life to Monotony.

A newborn wrapped in Purity,
With a promissory receipt for values received:

- Happiness,
- Security,
- and an eternity of Safe Keeps.

- Tamed Togetherness,
- Unsoiled Presence,
- and a fresh, respectable Existence.

- A Certainty and an Assurance, that...
"all would be okay if…
things remain this way."


But to Divine's dismay, that’s the instant Chance came.


And in all honesty, Chance was grimy.
He trudged into Destiny’s world leaving…

Muddied footsteps and a lingering stench.
Seemed as if…

He didn’t give 2 shits
about anyone or anything of substance.

He displayed countless moments…
An ill regard for Her guarded existence.

Chance wasn’t safe;
Chance was always protection-less...

But in Destiny’s eyes,
He was absolutely perfect.

Beautiful, in a dirty sense
Each day she found herself needing more of Him.

He gave whatever She requested,
As long as it meant that He too would benefit.

She tried to keep Him inside,
And multiple times She did.

And multiple times He came;
Blackening Her space.

She did the math:
Vulnerability plus Promiscuity equaled-
1 big Mistake.

Then from that calculation...
She evaluated Her subtracted Shine

And all that was left behind,
Was a lump sum of Bullshit.

When Chance came...

He filled Her to the brim
With everything She thought She’d missed.

And now Destiny sits
o v e r f l o w i n g with Filth

Because at the end of the day
She had gained nothing, except

His seed,
Which She present-tense mourns the birth of.

Making Her the bearer of a foul scent,
And a Fraction devoid of Love.