Countless times a man has argued to be delivered from the once mighty hand he serves,
Yet seldom does the passage of time deliver the respect that the soul deserves,
Since retribution in it’s right mind would turn its back at once
Knowing full well the extent of man’s intolerance,
guilty and with a desperate plea he runs
catching himself staring at the sun,
a realization too conscious and pure
slowly turning back to face that awful cure,
lights glimmering tantalizing him home
Defeated again and tired as a stone,
when if ever will heaven descend
to find many giving their hearts out to mend?