Image by freefotouk via Flickr

A delicate proposition is presented to all. 

An ending proposed.

All potential destroyed.

And in it’s place, a standing tall.

What was held within the hand;

A futile life indeed.

No hope of better days.

A place appears, for standing tall.

Come over here, you pride of man.

You’ve cursed me far too long.

It’s time to meet your blackest day.

Light dawns, for standing tall.

Within my hand is placed the tool,

Which ends your bloody cravings.

What you desire is not to be.

In this place for standing tall.