ON FATE'S LONELY LANE
I am the child
the land defiled.
In my limping heart
is a blooming art. Laying my stooling pride
in this torrent tide,
under the rain,
my joy was stained. Envisioned for years long
to table a song
about my ballistic life
in this cruel strife. I view the light
in its shadowy might.
Thus, I sorrowf