My thoughts peel away
Like burnt skin:

Seared by the cynical sun,
A victim of his invisible ray.

To that sun, which promises a guiding light
As a pretense for his deadly assault,

We cannot assign fault.
For how could he know what was right?

He is more trustworthy than any friend,
Yet he cares not for any man.

By his light I travel far from whence I began,
Yet, from my skin, I see to him I am no end.

If only I would follow him from the shade,
I could avoid all this pain.

He makes his intentions quite plain,
It is only I who maintains this charade.