While oft I have lain,
Vacant of thought
Devoid of pain
There have been so many
Moments when
Comprehending
The evil of man
has been my aim
Full-blooded nights
Followed by torrential rain
Hell’s fury belittled
By the bosom storm
Like autumn leaves
Inhibitions shed
Graduating from grief to vengeance
As from the cradle to the bed
The Ages of Man
Have come and gone
Summer’s children
Come winter; they’re gone.
The light of a thousand suns
Fading my dark skin
Paling into insignificance, finally
Bowing to my sins.
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