a nother R I D D L E .?

My name is nothing but a jest to mark one week beyond His test
Almost
Like most.

My fingers clenched in fisted show, the ring they bring for all to know
Save me.
Why me?

A pall was cast upon this eye, the burden on my shoulders my
Worst curse.
Few worse.

I placed her petals in dirty vase and so too others in fine, bright glass
That lied.
These died.

Then slew the savior loved at first whose love of mine was his one curse
To Hell
He fell.

Yes, love is odd and so am I, but great the vision of monstrous eye
Demure,
So pure,