by Devin Mitchell Durbin02 Sep 2013
So far in life and death,
With my woes, my dreams, my breath,
These, the shortcomings of a fool.
I a man, no only a child, spoke to soon.
Weak and weary a war waged inside.
My hopes, my imagination, I tried to hide.
Who I am and who I would become,
Could have been broken an age ago.
You know, Lord, of misery, the cause of your fallen tears?
Like mine, I remember, brought on by your fears.
Your emissaries all tried to force themselves in,
I was left with no choice but to wipe them all out.
Entire days of my life a charade,
Like an endless and annoying parade.
Always my enemies would remind me
Of what I did. I abandoned my kin.
For I am a blasphemous fool.
I was the never faltering tool.
Used for service to the almighty King,
In an instant my blade of thorns tore into his skin.
Sharpen the blades of your tongue.
Nothing said can worsen what’s been done.
For these a mighty grievance be, to me.
That’s how I know I really am human,
No matter what I have been told.
Until the day that my hair turns white gold,
And I have been given my rightful end,
Will I be able to repent for the mistakes I have made.