I forgive,
Reluctantly resultant denotations,
Opposites and opposition,
Of and to hypocritical arguments,
Brought forth by delusional introspection,
I ask,
Beautiful delusion how do I miss thee?
With ill gotten pretension marred by echoed anger?
With mournful alibi sans apologetic tone?
Or do I forsake and forgive with one fell fallacy,
Carved from my own wondrous sense of eternal disappointment?
I replied.
It fills me with sorrow to sow the seeds of my own demise,
To admit that aggravation and self inflicted burdens,
Remain my sole reason to woefully traverse the earth,
Casting stones in place of shadow to mark my weathered path,
They say,
We’ll make a martyr of you,
Erecting grandiose gestures,
In memorandum of your conception and ascension into heaven,
We need not show dalliance in regards to your name,
We need not castrate your will, your works of faith,
I ask.
Is it not echoed will?
Is it not grandiose gesture that has lead,
To institutionalised lies and fraud?
To the myriad of paradoxical parentheses,
That have disturbed and diluted my works, my faith?
They say,
Silence has taken the land.
I replied,
Your truth has been confronted,
Your truth has been confronted.
Yet I have never spoken of lies.
Yet my truth is to be debated,
For the truth I still despise.
Reluctantly resultant denotations,
Opposites and opposition,
Of and to hypocritical arguments,
Brought forth by delusional introspection,
I ask,
Beautiful delusion how do I miss thee?
With ill gotten pretension marred by echoed anger?
With mournful alibi sans apologetic tone?
Or do I forsake and forgive with one fell fallacy,
Carved from my own wondrous sense of eternal disappointment?
I replied.
It fills me with sorrow to sow the seeds of my own demise,
To admit that aggravation and self inflicted burdens,
Remain my sole reason to woefully traverse the earth,
Casting stones in place of shadow to mark my weathered path,
They say,
We’ll make a martyr of you,
Erecting grandiose gestures,
In memorandum of your conception and ascension into heaven,
We need not show dalliance in regards to your name,
We need not castrate your will, your works of faith,
I ask.
Is it not echoed will?
Is it not grandiose gesture that has lead,
To institutionalised lies and fraud?
To the myriad of paradoxical parentheses,
That have disturbed and diluted my works, my faith?
They say,
Silence has taken the land.
I replied,
Your truth has been confronted,
Your truth has been confronted.
Yet I have never spoken of lies.
Yet my truth is to be debated,
For the truth I still despise.
Last edited: