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Echoes in the memory

Talk about the past

Justice and faith for one

Injustice and faith for the other

Blind believer

Where’s my freedom?

In a fire

Or in the rope

Escaping into

The woods and telling

Before

The disappearance

Black blood poured

Such as shame

Black nights will fall

On the mounds

Of the past

This is not war

Or submission

But an empty gesture

Of death

Follow what

You hear in the void

Abandon

A thought to instinct

There was a god

But died

There was a faith

Covered in blood

A hermit is tired and old

And burn in his beliefs

There were noble hearts

Smothering

There was hatred

Will not be forgotten