Craven

A poem of confusion I face.

         Unbeknown to thine own eyes, this daring time of trial,

Mine fortitude befall this tide, though bittersweet the fall.

Genocide within my mind, a pearl I face alone,

To bend, nay break thine moral code, this crown of thorns enthroned.

To find thy wolf in lamb, a bold theory doth impose --

Ti's thine will for this slave enveloped by this one?

O'er this Nile of crimson lust, doth this craven call?

Who I am, thine own in part, forgive me this I plea?

For I am but your humble servant, praying --

Ti's this for You or me?