STAIN

I assume I have glory

But in vain

I search for the truth

In the falling rain

The crickets chirp my name

Quietly, so nobody but me,

Can hear I am sane.

Called out loud and

Forced me to shout

In this deep dark drought

I find a way out

Of this apocalyptic pain

Madness tries to defeat me

All glory is mine, it says

A prodigal son through

A prodigal daughter

We survive through aching gains

And prosper, for I was born a poem

And a poem I shall remain

Yet through this dark night I gingerly await

The footsteps and verdicts of those

Gone by without a second glance

At my state

For what is glory?

Without a little stain

TOSHAM