Fool
Come
Touch this grass
For what you thought
Was full of life
Is brittle death
Dying the stain on your hands
The culprit
Flavored his words
Sprayed this sin
Watered salt on this land
Where is he now?
He could not face
What he had done
So he moved on
Where am I?
I could not look away
I am weeping
Reaping in this sight
Where were you?
Abstaining in your
Absence?
Abandoning in your
Abundance?
Abscessed in your
Absolutism?
He is the sun
I am the farmer
But you want to be called a god.