Lamentation

My dearth will not be lamented I know,
A mere drops will dry before they fall,
For many a hearts I might have broken,
Many a false lives that I have lived.

I tried asunder to be of help,
to be counted among the earth's beloved.
But the fate had something else in mind,
The fall of worth,
for to tender hearts I was blind.

So I still stand here
and thine pardon I demand,
Blasphemy and Ignorance eventhough
you think I command.
But as a mere mortal I stand here,
A wain life and
melancholic despair.

Spitfire

There are some pastures
where the moon won't shine.
The path strays
and there's no light.

The smoke puffs up
in the scorching heat.
The charred ground
bellows ominously under my feet.

Blood spattered
is singeing the soil.
The sky so dark,
looks murky and foul.

The hell's empty and
the devils wander free.
With their bloodshot eyes
they look at me.

I see them dragging
the charred remains.
And the bits of those
who have no names.

Oh dear lord!
is this the human mind,
Is this what's left of
Good and Kind?

Cracking bones
and burning flesh.
Why thou left us,
in this mess?