Nothing marks me like my own voice,

The internal battle,

The ultimate choice.

.

I am more than The Farmer's hoe,

The anchor infant,

The knots of destiny, tangled,

For I am distant.

.

My once solid resolve,

Dissolved,

Freezes over once more,

And I swear upon his dusty flesh,

That I am more than ice and fear,

Anger, and wasted years.

.

I am fire and fired from all positions damper.

I am shiny white skin, ever present, and prominent.

I am humorous in hell, and silent at heaven's gates.

.

I am forgiven, but unforgiving,

Proud of my judgments,

And bitter in treason.

.

I am exiled without reason.

.

But I fear not solitude,

And celebrate my isolation,

And new found attitude.

.

I may be stoned and christened,

By hemp and bloody vowels.

I may be shamed and damned,

But I am not forgotten.

.

Not by you,

.

And certainly not by me.