He is fearless but not brave.
A servant. Not a slave.
A hater, not a hoper.
It's true.
Though he shines, the light's shallow.
A barren lamplight so hollow.
A shadow destined to be shamed
and broken.
Take for instance his great burden.
Is this a cross? Or a warden
of a state which is true...
Is it really?
But he holds together surely
as his spirit's dying, purely
just to show he can last
a year more.
Yet the taint of his upbringing
causes disease which starts singing
in his lungs and his heart
and his mind's eye.
So when he speaks, close your please.
When he writes, look away and cease
from believing, receiving
his lies and revolt
For a rebel has restarted,
fully now he has departed
and to hell with all others
who think he's not bad.
Unsmile that great happy structure.
Please frown, and he will fracture
all your hopes, to your kids
and your future.
And when you feel fully harrowed.
Just see his grave. His tombed barrow.
You will see him in your dreams.
As a shadow.
