Sweet, though fragile maiden,
Awakes in spite of desolation -
Bruised, poor bludgeoned thing,
Serving the wicked a constellation.
A comet visible to the damned -
Men such like me;
That have prevailed through edged wit,
Knowing the horror, of disparity.
Its not been easy, has it?
Aware of nothing in grander sense.
Piling forth a willful drive,
Renounced of prior innocence.
In faith, to be revered,
By all that see the weight -
That has sprawled atop your conscience,
Triumph vivid, and taken shape.
Never to know the glee you brought
The sky, in your remorse;
Lest the land be covered in sin,
And life left broken, all the more.