| Written: MAY 22, 2001 |
Humble day of my beginnings;
The bright night I began to Die.
I write from feeble friendlessness,
The peopled wastelands of concrete.
Frantically I sit, a zealot of darkness,
Screaming rage at my world
From behind closed mouth.
It sickens me & I seek shelter:
On a bed of loneliness & pain.
Like nails piercing my senses:
I lie awake having nightmares.
Still I remain calm & silent,
Eviscerated and bleeding sanity.
