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Accusations



I know you have painted yourself as a victim of circumstance

battered and wounded by turns of fortune you could not control.

I know you would have offered any excuse if given the chance

for a fundamental lack of discipline that distorted your soul.

It matters very little to me what compromises you had to make,

and it matters even less what havoc they wreaked upon your life.

You took everything to an extreme I found impossible to take

and seemed oddly discontent unless you created misery and strife.


I know you have worked diligently to absolve yourself of blame

for those countless catastrophes you created spiraling without end.

I know you made a thousand reckless choices in another man’s name,

and aligned yourself completely to those who had few, if any, friends.

Your influence was pervasive and reeked of a death I will not describe

but which equally terrifies and chills me to the center of my being.

You developed a talent for endurance that would ensure you survived,

and every favor you bestowed left me unsure of what I was seeing.


I condemn and ordain you as a minister of self, devoted to a cause

that provided you with much and deprived many of their very will.

You professed a sense of profound regret but truly knew no pause

in seizing the initiative no matter if your victim was wounded or ill.

I know you as you are, you cannot claim any disguise sure to deceive,

I have seen them all and they no longer hold even a hint of surprise.

I seek sanctuary from your touch and pray there is someway to relieve

the devastating effect felt upon gazing into your glittering, hooded eyes.