Against the cypress, fir, and pine, They weep and beg, and bleed. My punishment has fit my crime, I greet this Roman deed. I never thought myself like Him, The Logos, Lamb and Light, Forgiving, faced with fortune grim, Unyielding ‘til the ninth. Instead, I neighbour Sorrow’s son, On which side do I lie? The penitent and righteous one, Or brazen, bold, and sly? The patron of repentance, right, I wish I had such heart. Unhindered by the brooding wight, Redeemed from roguish art. It seems my role lies on the left, Despite my efforts vain. I’m guilty of remorseful theft, Yet doomed to sin again.
A Little Bit about the Poem
I think this is one of my strongest, with one line in desperate need of changing. Hopefully, you won't notice which one until I can fix it.
It's based on one of those mortifying events everyone has that hits you right before you're falling asleep and wakes you right back up again. So naturally, I won't be indulging you with the finer details, a man needs his rest.
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