One of my few poems. A reflection about traitors, belief and idealism. |
Treacherous Warrior Bracer of locking grip Crushing wrist and vein sinew Blood, in unease, goes to drip Free me from this pain anew. Oppression, madness doth deem A doom for my lawful sin Against my country’s esteem Now I rot in chains of steel and tin. How more should I suffer That I learn to repent and regret For that which evil does offer I believe I can never forget. Will I now broil in misery My self and soul did upon itself bring The heaviest price for my treachery Treason against God and king? Dante did once write of my ilk Burning in hell’s ninth layer We who used words of silk And whose lies were sacred prayer. Do I fear this fate most supreme To dangle off demon fang Forever hiding a painful scream Wallowing in vengeance’s bitter tang? Nay, let these bars arraign me Death itself is no better destiny I must take flight and flee Rather than decay here in solitary. For while they can cage mortal flesh My spirit, my mind shall never rust With utter will these bars I would thresh And betray once more the public trust. Am I mad? No, only driven Petty monarchs cannot imprison The self I have generously given Power that needs no lesson. It has been long since I learned To go beyond naive idealism For believe me I have yearned Nothing more than truest altruism. And yet I find no miracle cure For a social cancer so utterly dire Where none resist corruption’s allure Dark water douses morality’s pious fire. So I take up arms and fight A revolution so strikingly true For my defeated nation I smite Evil vermin and immoral shrew. Yet the government prevails And so I am banished And in the dungeons, a hero wails Hope now gone, vanished. And so I turn, wrath reborn To the foes whose deaths I plan Your stain I shall thwart and scorn I am willing to die to the last man. But there is no rest for the traitor Who wishes peace for his land I will fight and revolt until I grow pallor And God, with His might, take my hand. |