Leaving marks
Wherever the hand is
Filth going with every stroke
Everyone blames the root for the evil
No matter, the tree does the evil
Foul fingers deep in fault
I digress, I cower
And my mouth saves by spouting lies

Call me the forerunner of silent sinning
Proud heart, detestably weak mind
All I am able is point fingers
To those who did me no wrong
And sit in the corner, unprotesting
Which immensely shadows me
From a fainthearted dark