Oh Self you cruel and heartless master

Oh such a Fort is this

The body for the mind.

This shallow skin

Hides the true depth of hearts,

And the whole of inspiration.

But this ferocious life

And fickle self,

Holds hard to the senses,

And the mind bleeds is victims

Filling oceans with countless sorrows.

Even so, Mars awaits,

With sword drawn and glistening,

Ready for a new offence.

Yet this war, any war

Masquerades as self defence.

And of the history

In the East

I can speak of little or of nought,

For their legion struggles

Of such, we are never taught.

This hand is capable and helping,

This grip on blade is stronger.

To cut the harvest, feed the child

And count the Devils hunger.

Oh Self you cruel and heartless master

You cripplecripplerr in the Night,

You hound the Soul and scatter Love

You lull yourself with your delight.

(C) 2018 Christopher Thompson.

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