Recounting heated rainy arguments -
In tremor nightly, sick of elements?
Mystics afar losing sight of stars
Both knees down, repentance floods and marsAssignment muddling, a dancing shuddering
But revolution turns my face back forwards;
To wish, the struggle might turn a shuffle
And my crime stained on a coin’s obverseGolden sun might blind, but warm hands guide
Though brutally beaten, red and away thus shied,
A lone room intrudes a smile or two,
Shall late-night mysteries haunt our deepest blues.
I do realise that it looks quite sad, but it isn't really that sad, okay?
Also the title seems to make no sense, because it doesn't, unless you know what people I am referring to. It has no direct connection to the poem, but rather describes the subject, just like 'Wayward' and 'Patchwork'.
There are a lot of references to my own life (and my other poems) in this poem.