In the solitude

of your own reflection

weep silent tears

for crimes you may have

committed

as you groan upon the tree

Bless the infants

dashed under the willow

Secret those scents of disease

Immoral acts of sanctuary

Blessed are the poor in spirit

Blessed are the meek

Bless a world of lies and distortions

Bless a world of greed

In the solitude

of your own reflection