6.09pm. Working? or going poetic?

My current mood:

Thy behold, the lovely light. Morning arrives and the warmth with it.
Passion felt, passion seen,
how art lovely thine morning felt.
But gayfull mood turns wrath, a wonder why it does.
Cause slaving is a must, for a pittance wage it does.

Here thine sat, in idleness he kept.
Wonders why, thine beauty of the sky.
Slave thy must, an endless task.
Memories of beauty, how lovely she graced,
the soul wepts, sorrows increase.
For no more thy found, thou beauty more,
and wonders aloud, aloud in a sorrowfull voice.

My love! my love! where art thou? hear me my love,
For thy heart aches, longing the sights of thee.
Fill my soul, grace me with thy presense, thine smell, thine breath.
Allure, ignite me, passions felt, mere touch it says,
Warms me, comforts me, gracing me, for thine days ahead.

Why sorrows felt,
Deepest sorrow felt, thy cannot express, of truth, that spoken it can't.
Joyfully thy eyes behold thee, yet fears thy felt.
For truth takes thee from me.

Guilty conscience haunts the soul,
For by thy biddings, thy sins destroys.
Thy soul wonders. Will forgiveness be mine? Condemn thou shall be,
to join the hellish nightmares.

Ponders much, ponders not.
What's done is done... Seeks redemption thyself. Hopes vanished thy felts.
Musn't ponders the soul spoke. Back to slaving must thy done.
For a pittance wage is must. Survived harsh world thy must.