bend that bow till breaking
fire those arrows at will
I am an illusion
a draft of sorrows and heartache
too ephemeral
too misty to stay long in any sights
for the sake of argument.
gentiles and wit
karma and justice
its seems the only thing broken is your luck,
and the answer it seems is lost in the wind
while you're too busy thinking
by my mind you are already an ancient thought.
cast your strokes,
carve your name upon my will
a hard target for an uneasy ****
I've died before and lived again
My special healing power is
I never give a **** more than is necessary
and yes indeed this above all
makes me a most worthy adversary.