My Enemy

have compassion on my soul do not tread upon my head feelings you give i feel dead in the days of adversity i wither away from the strong hand of the oppressor he puffs up at me like an adder he is like a madd hatter that compasses me his pride is cruel and he strings my heart in his laughter when shall i be free from his wrath of no reason i wait upon the season when i am not opressed stress stress all this stress could it be folly works of the devil no less he is the dark soul that hates me when did i become his point of agression a target none the less he plays with my head like a ten string guitar he dances with so much joy to put my soul in misery he also causes me to forget what i am thinking this being really is stinking his attitude and ways when does he bother me you may ask all damn day i feel dull from his hands my emotions feel bland i try to run to hide from his cruel intentions i even sought for other interventions but none did know what to do it is a frame i look like the fool