It is odd to think we are free,
And to idealize liberty, and to praise expression.
But how at large can we truly be,
If within, we can only draw upon unruly self-repression?

If in public, we dare not speak our minds?
If our love, we dare not confess?
If to wrongs, we turn blind?
If from singing our hearts, we digress?

We claim to be free,
The thought alone, within us, sets a torch alight,
But the truth for truth we must see,
When given a pen, hardly one of us would write.

A single life so worthless, that poor fly,
Sooner than its timely moment to die,
As commanded by my unnerving will,
Its incompetent life I chose to ****.

Put more simply, for disturbing my peace,
Its feeble and destitute life I ceased.
Yet my bloodstained hands always remained clean,
Once crimeful killing had become routine.

What almighty and sinful God am I
For unsparingly judging who must die
By my sword, without remorse or regret,
The slaughtered fly under my gavel, I forget.

An evil power from no source or spring
Springs power in me like a maddened King.

How oft’n doth Life give ‘n take away?
Moments trivial kept and others lost,
Pains ‘n pleasures in time tied amongst days,
Of which my beating heart burns to exhaust
Born, but bitt’r, but sour and sweet, I laugh
At life which against death cannot compete
I cry, I am just flesh ‘n photograph
I’ll die, and my seasons will obsolete
I treasure my few years of affection,
Nevertheless by Life kindly given
To me, soon taken by Death’s confection
Which to keep, by treachery I’m driven
    By love, by hate, I grieve melancholy
    Of the world known in my mortality

To Selene:
Rare a night, her gentle grace is not seen;
Live long torches, shamed, by her beauty’s gleam!
The Queen of night, my heart, she reigns supreme.
Floating high in deep, black lakes of my dreams,
Softly she gazes down past thick and thin;
Distant is her love as we skin to skin;
Fooled, my fervent stretch is never within,
Her affection for me, I’ll never win.
My heart, her misfortune can only reap
This last choice—wound us both more than my weep!
For her sympathy, my eternal sleep!
Now like me, may her woe forever keep.
By day miss her and dream of her by noon
Forever, rest in heart, my dear honey, moon

An be mine lone soul hollow, none to give
Wherefore choose life, vain and forlorn, why live
So Sins consume that which himself canst not forgive?
The poisoned remedy for pain, only death carries with
Talk of beauty, of roses, of love and everything fair
And you talk of mutiny, of poses and a deceit I canst not bare
O’ Happiness, the biggest lie beyond compare
From which to seek, lies rooted every tragedy’s despair
The search of truths is a combination of lies to find
Lies of our own choosing those gentle on the mind
To our perspective deceit and commodity bind
For our freedom, to live in a world a bit more kind.