Judgement
had been lain upon me
more than once,
and yet I still choose
to taunt the man at the gallows.
I've been through this field before,
but if there is one thing
the world has taught me,
it's that the world
has taught me nothing.
This trek and I
have history unlike any other.
Nature and man, if not once,
but twice
have been united
as such should never be,
and yet I continue to walk.
The weight upon me,
a mere inconvenience
compared to what I have caused others.
Each day I carry this travesty,
disgusted.
Sympathy is a path I chose not to take,
not because I know
the comforts it affords me are fallacies,
but simply because
I am not kingly enough to accept it's worth.
A pauper of guilt,
nobody thought it existed.
Well, to be honest,
neither did I.
If you refuse to place
the guilt upon me that
I truly deserve,
I can only imagine
the sort of life that awaits you,
oh saint of saints.
By daylight I've mended and stitched
more than enough to get by.
It actually provokes me
to remove these weights,
and if not for this conscience,
I would be gone of them.
Damn them, and damn you.
Perfectionism
is not a choice you've taken,
but it's a choice that seems
to have taken you,
and although
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it,
I must respect it.
Sometimes I wish
I was a cold and heartless *******,
easily obtaining absolution.
Unfortunately my heart stands warm,
and even worse,
public.
For all those who want it,
there it is,
brighter than the sun itself,
your god and mine.
Forgive me,
but first,
judge me.