Memories bring me to these thoughts of my choice;
They bring forth the words of a man without a voice.
Scars and pleasantries of note within one's life;
Cuts through reality like butter with a knife.
Shall we forever endure these iniquities of disaster;
Or shall we perish at the hands of treacherous laughter.

It is often this twisted mind that brings out a soul of truth;
Of eerie desires tempted and captured in your youth.
How long will I contemplate these feelings of despair;
And ponder the eternal question of who will listen and who will care.
Though poetry is subsidized by great words of little meaning;
Your personnel vendetta justifies the flight of your yielding.
And once again you find yourself encompassed by a thought;
An empty stomach, a lustful mind – all traits of a war once fought.
For now the time of kings have come, and you are one of them;
With sword in hand and shield held fast, so many for you to condemn.

Blistering acts of righteousness all but fruitful to your mind,
As the Word bears on your consciousness and leaves you far behind.
Can truthfulness and happiness be encompassed in one being;
I doubt it, many tend to say for this must first be seen.
And as the narrow winding road draws closed on one's existence;
One must celebrate and answer to the Holy One's persistence.