I know a man in pain,
You all know him as well.
He fell from the grace of Heaven,
To find himself in hell. 1 comment
His truth burns in his pages,
Hanging tortured from a pen.
But he graces with his presence still,
Every now and then.
He has written a million words,
Poured forth as if on fire.
He uttered seamless genius,
Written with passion and desire. 1 comment
You promised him you’d follow,
Wherever this soul went.
But in the end your words are hollow,
Worthless, untrustworthy and bent. 1 comment
He craved for your affection,
And to show he was a friend.
He delighted you with verses,
Written hard upon his sacred pen. 1 comment
And how do you reward him,
For the efforts in his verse?
You forgot your proud declaration,
And for that you all are cursed.
