Realistic Creator

An intimate and playful accident
Common to life had placed him on a bench
Beside an old and stiffly wounded wench.
With erudite and careful eyes he sent
A sneer to tear away her feeble mask
And snatch the battered dullness of her heart.
He spied her only in the scheming part
Of soiled flesh bickering with some trivial task.

The lacerated madness of her soul,
And delicate emotions kicked by life,
Did not invade the swift tricks of his mind.
Regarding her, he could not see the whole,
Or catch the psychic lunge behind her strife.
His eyes were savagely adroit, and blind.