Poetry -For the Violent

Because I, with an unloaded revolver, became a suicide bomber 
While you, innocent, decided to buy terror
Because I, by fated attacks, was injured, but love was not 
While, all the way from death, you came back, but humanity did not
 
Because, living in the bright, I beg for your darkness
While you, in twilight, pray me even more of self-destructiveness
Because I, with hurtful sins, allow the world to erode me by your lord
While you, with painful respite, defend with an unjust sword
 
Because I, just like loving many others, love you
While you, just as you hate yourself and the lovers, hate all my world too
Because I, a human, is no angel
And you, a beautiful one, is no devil
 
Therefore, anything, I will not conclude 
But to leave you to pave your way with your mighty tools 
Therefore my wound may, one day, heal your wound 
but my deaths might not, in any way, give you all the life you consumed
Therefore I am, again, finally thoroughly away, but, regardless it all, again here to stay
 
Yet unworthy my words may be, and my soul, unnecessary, you may not see
Sordidly, turn on the house light 
Pretending it is, humorously, for a mere artistic sight
Then, perhaps, we could say 
That no words, at all, have been uttered 
No time, at all, has been squandered 
And no lives, at all, have been shattered
 
Last writing of summer 16′
28/08/2016 04:28am
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