The Tiny Mole

When I was a coward without hope I was a coward looking unto them As I waited for my salvation I soon became a slave of them As I exalted to accommodation I was a coward that never talked A coward that bleeds but never twitched And towards my fall I cried to the witches For bewitching me with fear That time I woke up only to find This brave ego dwelling in ruins of nowhere I was like a bull without horns to fight So dull even rats never noticed the corn I walked in paved routes with them And I never found any treasure I fall with the leaves in rags of fools Not even man made tools could fix me As I saw velvet roses grow beside me