For those weak souls and hearts so faint,
Will you be able to stomach that I am not the
Saint
That I was meant to be?
I would not expect anyone to understand
that I could not live
While the threads still hung so loosely, and
could give
Away the stain that I could not clean from
my given wings.
I am a devil’s advocate out of fear.
He promised me safety under my own
conditions
That I could breathe, walk and talk, in spite
of this smear.
A smear – so hardly there, yet still there –
that would remind me
of the crime I’ve committed, of the strain
I’ve endured with my relations.
Yet He could not do without the exception
To the fools that are clueless of my role on
that fateful day.
Why, you Beast. You brought upon another
advocate of yours:
The very man who I sought to shame in
every way.
Now here I rot: ready to face the fiery depths
of hell.
Should I regret, as I hear the knell
My sins?
Is that what you want, “friend”?
For here I approach the end
And I lose the luxuries that I sinned for
Only to be left with the ridicule and no
more.
Yet there you stand on the other side
With His sneer plastered on your face.
You come across to the world as a saint,
much like I did
Yet I can see the darkness in your eyes
The self-satisfaction of gaining revenge for
my lies
For every life I’ve ruined, yours included.
You will deny this until the end of time,
But you and I have more or you have less,
It matters not when it comes down to the
facts:
You and I are the devil’s advocates.
A real life campus
Seems dead when lights are down
To those who do not bother
To look around with
A nightly stroll
Beneath the cold
And wander where my feet might go
The buildings are quite harmless
The big and sleepy slabs
Like prey they must
Be worth the fight
But I am small and
They are large
And plus it’s dark at night.
One always knows the time has ticked
Too much to bear your stay,
Where I came here
The air was still
The leaves and smiles were full
Tinted yellow, union court
And summer weather sport.
Uni Ave where shade was sought
Fessors thought
And something else,
You wouldn’t dare
To say goodbye to
Madame George.
You were too busy
Crying while summertime turned
Slowly into autumn.
The rosy withered
From the face as parching scratched the lines of
Feet were bare
As walked the grounds
The stars.
Above.
Maybe feet were froze enough
I couldn’t feel the pain.
Yet halls are warm
They give you time
To melt.
