I feel like a loner, even when I imagine
the entire universe sitting beside me
Like I’ve fondled a memory and brought it to life
I know magic works regardless of what you decide
You know that a pain is forgotten even if it lies in your bed
An aftermath when you feel secluded by immaculate divinity in your head
Who is worth your salt? Does it dissolve
in an impregnability left by the choice that you wed?
You know it’s not all your making, but there is onus in being God and King
Just that you shed no shadows in believing
in the ritual of sacrifice in plainclothes, every now and again!
And are you the worthiest for suffering all that pain?!
I am supercharged by being in charge, I don’t suppose there is randomness
in obvious tasks, that are repeated through the ages
You can’t bely the dignity of selflessness and sacrifice
Though to many it may look as if it is your vice
God knows the narrative of history, and lost victory
But there’s triumph because this existence is honorary
And they can pulverise the truth and kick it with the boot
It will only resound and echo like an owl’s hoot
And yes, God did blow the smoke on his lungs to fill them with soot
Was it because of Saint Paul’s disgusting morphing, with his eye on the loot?
That you all know and should rather choose
The bellwether that is oldest, and still worthy of all the news
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