Depressed-depressed and purged from joy 

I stand in the absence of men.

Fears of course are not lacking

And regrets I continue stacking.

Yet how generous is your hatred’s provider

How you manipulate all my desires.

For your hands are as stained as I am.

Call me wretched and you have credence,

I agree with you once more.

Call me blessed and you’re a menace,

Your lies are a crown of thorns.

None ever loved me, none ever will

For you all will no longer be slightly concerned,

You all will no longer be slightly perturbed

By my worthless breath for I’ll kill it,

Along with every thing it’s supported.

For your hands are as stained as I am.

Your mouth is a viper: I’ve felt its caustic bites,

Every bit as unjust as what you’ve done without right.

I dread having success

Since your vengeance will follow,

Dimming the already pitch black of tomorrow.

You brute, show kindness

Apart from your mockery.

Think for once without blindness,

Do you think you see clearly?

For your hands are as stained as I am.