All of these recent events have brought to mind a poem of mine that I wanted to include in the novel. I lost the original drafts of it, but have just recovered them. I never titled it. Here it is:
Thick foliage providing shade for already darkened skies
The facade of mankind providing shade for already darkened eyes.
I guess that's why they hate the dark guy.
These days, people ask why not more than they ask why.
What I'd like to hear more of is talk of defeat.
I'll explain.
So often, you hear the debauched criticizing the principled as thoughtless.
Yet, visibly to all, they walk in anguish.
You don't believe in the way you act.
You've conceded to it.
If understanding something makes you fall out of love with it,
You really never loved it in the first place.
If I tell my oppressor his actions are deliberate, he smiles and calls me crazy.
If I use my fists and blow him away, he never smiles again.
Just when it seems unfair, look -
The beauty of balance.
But why must it always come to this?
Why must it always come down to the lingerie of a murderer -
Gloves
Covering the identity of madness.
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