Friday, April 10, 2009

Riches

Seated with casual superb

Before me on an orange throne,

His nobility worn and scarred,

Was one with the riches I sought.

I followed him through depravity,

In equilibrium fell not.

I followed him through violence,

Learned to strike, and to roll it off

As beating rain rolls off a leaf.

I followed him through sorrow's pain,

Broke my heart again and again.

Still I followed, through endless nights,

And through despicable ruin.

He spoke of his freedom attained

In prison; it's trace shining through

The walls and bars he keeps within,

Saw his mortal contradiction.

All that he scattered I gathered

Along the tortuous route.

I was unable to convince him,

He is still there, in argument.

Now I've my riches, my freedom.

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