My timing is bad,
Like a death of a loved one
Seems selfish, a far.

A halo's weight: Heavy.
Unbearably bright, blinding.
Power is a Lens.

Behold my face, so serene, I'm every part of the scene;
the crucified, the prosecutor as well the chorus.
When I breath my chests cage shows gaps ,the focus.
Here you are again my parade of pestilence my imbalanced state showing as ailments.
My sides tearing, stress penetrating my skin. Tragic,
Oh how the spear of reproach entangles and dives deep,
Piercing my belly and lets it noxious poison seep.

I beg 'No please do not twist', he then spoke of my dying dreams and loses to the soul.
The knots bind my thought and any move in conciseness has it toll.
The darkness strives for my sight but he knows how to not give it room.
The poisoned tip barley nearly missed my heart , I thought it the end, I relaxed too soon.
The tincture of doubt burns my open sensitive soft non-flesh.
Am I not one of the blessed, where is my place of rest?

The jury spectate from its pedestal, good for nothin but blaming.
His aim was never my life only that which makes it worth living.
His aim was the spark, my soul, the light at the end of the tunnel showing it all, so you don't stay down when you fall.

The earth knows me from My hands, feet and knees.
I rarely pray only spoke if it preceded an action, I fell a lot you see.
Now I walk with caution but my legs can barely take the weight.
My breathing and steps were heavy. you wouldn't have know my pain by my face
This has been my truth I believed it fate.
Early I realized wherever I sat was a throne.
Hubris led me to take on the woes and faults of the world as if they were my own.

The jury clamor great hollow truths, to lessen the sentences existence.
As much as they are valid and grand I see them only as excuses
"You will pain those who you love and love you"
"You will forsake the hopes and dreams in your view"
"You are good, only want the best for everyone "
Was it that ambiguity that lead to my current "wrong"
Seems if you aim to give others happiness you will never win
I know this but I still hurt: it's all starts and ends within.

Woe is me

They slumber in their stubbornness, they, alone

They have seen their brethren and extensions lost to the ebenflow

All that is left of themselves is what has not been lost or given.

They have shielded the meek since they left, the safety of the waters, to the bountiful yet perilous shores and banks.

A foot hold for the scenery and possibilities a fort against the storms and heavens tribulations.

Shadows cast, air guided

To be left, alone, I have to leave all I've known or Is known.
I think me a star when I'm only dust.

I try sympathize and synchroniz not knowing I is the disconnect.

I wake in their home surrounded in my stubbornness now they think me my own.

Dust for the young monoliths to grow.