I am the voice from a distance
hunted by the choices I made.
A thousand men have I slain
from the swing of my flaming tongue.
I am my mother's graying pains;
her prayers in countless vains.
I am a knight at night
communed at the heart of darkness.
I am the eclipse of pain
raining down on the children of men.
I am all that I am
because I was anointed by the gods of race.
Though I am made strong by the streaming oil on my forehead I am weakened by the creams of streaming blood from the gutters of my heart. I am lost in the tears of my brothers' souls, hunted by the tears on my mother's dying bed, and cursed by the anger of my mocked ancestors. I am poor from the wealth of betrayal, bemused by the groans of deception, and axed from the ties of family.
I am fighting a war inside, A WAR OF INSIGHT! Writing with the last droplet of blood only to restore my aided gray into maidenhood.
WHENCE SHALL I KNOW THE END FROM THE BEGINNING?
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