They say I’m a fighter
Who will fight to win
But is that a sin?
To fight is to win
And to win is to fight
But if it ends in pain
Was it ever right?
They say words can hurt
But still people blurt
Those words as bullets
Swarming like hornets
But what if I wasn’t a fighter
And really it was an act
Would it be any righter?
Would you believe it was fact?
I only fight to defend
I was misapprehended
I wore a mask
So I wouldn’t have to bask
In the hurt and pain
I was once pushed around
And because of that I drowned
In tears that I shed
Before I went to bed
Felt like I had no one
Sadness weighed on me like a ton
Saw what they did to me
As the only way to be
So a mask I put on
Letting my thoughts turn to poison
I soon turned into a python
With that myself respect was gone
I wanted others to show fear
Just by showing my sneer
So my pain would stop
But found that I now felt like slop
So they say I’m a fighter
Who will fight to win
But is that a sin?
...For me I felt it was
22/06/2017
He was blinded by choice,
The tourist guy,
A strange type of stranger,
Misapprehended explorer of the
World beyond the world.
Unable to detach his obsession,
Cast it off and away from
The beauty of a sun
Pouring gamma and ultra-violet
Upon a cold, sentient sea.
Such beauty blazed,
Begged, dared for capture.
The polished lens tracked
Aloft the clarity of the sky.
First, out burned his right eye,
Click!
Then, the left eye melted,
Click!
And although he would never
See the sun again,
Trapped within his brain
A slow developing image evolved
That would forever shine
For he and he alone.
And his days were never dark,
And his nights never fell.
And his two last photographs
Bequeathed to others
The sheer mad brilliance
Bedazzling his visionary head.