Insight Out

Lady, give me your blindfold  
let me balance my heart on your scales
I carry a cancerous pain years old
eating my body, my spirit, the flesh pales  
cold as a ghost I dig my way from the grave of the past
I must see myself as I am, blindly objective to my crimes
no more a pallbearer, a buried corpse at last
succumbed to the suffering ten-folded a thousand times
Lady, give me your sword, let me strike this slight from living!
No! Do not take my borrowed time away!
I need the borrowed courage, the filtered view to be unforgiving!
Lady, do you not see this angry child, discourse and dismay?
His life is condemnation for self-confessed acts of leading others astray
mayhem and pain, spreading suffering compounded and petty acts and lies, he is the root of all evil inside the barren tree he has grown to be
Lady! I implore you! I beg you! Strike him down, decisively with your sword, measure the bark of his shell against the heart of we,
Lady! I plead of you! Finish his towering! He deserves no more sun or moon, swiftly swipe the base and cease his branches swoon, put an end to this poisonous oak split betwixt the skull of me.