Plain as a Pikestaff

I have lost myself in arms
Heedless of alarms
That warn of expensive charms.

I have smelt
The rose and felt
Its power,
Losing precious hour
In many a rented bower.

I have seen it all, plain as a pikestaff
And heard Nemesis’s mocking laugh.
Yet oft times a man learns too late
That he makes his own fate.

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