Poor ol' Dante Alighieri
Italian genius poet
At the age of 9
He lost his heart
To an 8-year-old daughter of a banker
To an 8-year-old daughter of a banker
He hid his passion
From every prying eye
Lest his lust be revealed
He waited until he was 18 to hear her say hello
Overcome with happiness at this
He fled to his room
Falling asleep and into a dream
Of a lord afire
holding in his arms
The object of his desire
The poet's heart aflame in hand
Upon which Beatrice did dine
Did he see her as salvation?
Did he see her as salvation?
A means by which he could aspire
To the purest, the loftiest
Beatitudes of all beatitudes
Beatitudes of all beatitudes
Maybe it was much simpler
Could it be she was just a first crush
That unrequited
Became an obsession?
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