severe cloak
The offender paces his unsteady walk,
Into territory where he shouldn't talk,
He shares his own sense of logic,
And everyone looks gaping in shock.
The offender comes home after long,
His home is where nothing is wrong,
The offender looks out his window a lot,
Expecting them to come, sing their mocking song.
About him, The Offender, what he's called.
The offender questions his own sense of logic,
And comes to a conclusion,
Morality is an object.
Can be thrown away when worn all up and,
Can be drank or spilled in a cup.
Is there any way the offender can avoid this conflict,
Other than to his own emotions constrict.
And when he's surrounded by people,
Some day, some peculiar way,
He'll find that all this is all a losing game.
So what did he learn from all this pain?
Don't get greedy where you don't have a name,
Your efforts against their shame,
Will only be in vain.
oak igloo
onyx ember