The Fool

 

How does an anguished fool accept defeat?

Does he remind himself by stamping words

Behind his lids, the message to repeat

Each time he blinks, and darkness comes like swords?

 

And must he paint, with non-dry ink, his skin 

Those words offensive, words that scar his soul,

So each touch can never be mistaken;

This be the punishment for such a fool?

 

Then does he encase himself with armor,

Condemned to dwell in darkness known so well

And lost in waters beyond the shore,

Adrift and struggling with each ocean swell?

 

Please tell me that these bitter tears I cry,

From my eyes the words tormenting, will wash away. 

And tell me please, that with each touch I try,

The blemish of ink will slowly fade away.

 

I need to know before I don my amour

Because I know, the weight will make me fall.

 

 

B. Benjamin                                                                                                         

BBP16