the master of time condemns you
your thoughts are no longer your own
you passed the test of your father
but failed the rest and are alone
your chest is swollen and punctured
the pain captivates you once more
your body aches without working
your heart is blackened to the core
no thoughts can deceive your conscience
it’s sharp as a sword in the fire
the object is crafted for war
your mind’s attractive desire
in the eyes of the purest soul
your intentions seem good natured
the stupid old fool will learn soon
he cannot trust his good neighbor
through the lives of the tortured souls
a lesson is learned by the mad
if ever should life turn nasty
make others around you feel sad
ask not what’s wrong with the crazy
ask not what they are doing here
ask yourself maybe they’re normal
and i’m the one who should be feared
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 