I kiss the rain and recall thy blame, of the one I cannot name who is in pain and is insane.
Allow me not to sour over you no more or linger in vain, as I cannot account for what you’ve done it was painfully disdain.
So far away I leap from you,
I let go and I grow.
Cower was your power over me, bunted by your insufficient explanation of your aleck that kept me caged, carped and frugal.
With your haste I bare you not our child but that of a black blade that I craned, and I killed. I killed you.
You scraped me of my honor and took away my aim to stay high and live a life.