PART 1-INERTIA
A light in his hands he presents,
The lies in his heart undisplayed,
A light he held and a lie he told.
Some lines he wrote on the horse he rode,
But hearers can no longer hear.
Their bleeding ears yearn for a cure,
A cure that was never told.
Some will go and some will come,
But the lines remain as fresh as spring leaves
Some have gone and some have stayed,
But the lines remain unchanged.
I have reached a point where I no longer yearn,
For if I must yearn, I must beat again.
But just like them, I have doused the flame.
