Agony

We look into the depths of love,
Where the gauge is mendacity ,
Frighten with our intellect,
While it grasp you in a way of decorous lunacy,
Where our clapper can't rival with hasty rational,
Our word games 're slacken and slurred,
The cote is our asylum,
Lot of apprehension hidden under,
Retain our torment,gore and welkin.

Where the bygone was existing,
Spurious was real,
There might be some perceive,
But the incertitude on such a sham,
Thee wouldn't be thee.