I believe I was conceived in a,
motionless dark and deep hole,
it was a place of equal shame,
and relentless pain by way of,
a hatred burned and shared.
Now the toys and tricks,
the espionage of a twisted,
and doomed environment,
placated but if only for birth,
the seasoned children come,
up from the depths of a despair,
only the lost and broken could,
ever be awake, be aware,
and so they underestimate my,
reach and influence, pegging me,
a bruised and rotten fruit, fallen,
by graces few will ever understand, fathom and recognize, as the violence grows,
so does the resistance to mercy,
From the womb comes the thirsty and deseased, awaiting,
the call, murder is only necessary, as they anticipate,
what they do not know?
They'll never underestimate me,
again
©unchman
D