Man, Thy Mistress is ErisDredged up from the gutter young and proud,
Caked in the filth of righteous ambition,
He looks to the stars and yells aloud,
"This is my right, and to hell with permission!"
Kicked and abused mistreated and shunned,
He's the scum of the earth and he wears it with pride,
Slick with the sweat of the midday sun,
He rides in on the waves of the swelling tide.
Wandering the wilds of a concrete jungle,
Gnashing his teeth at the passersby,
He'll follow his feet, every step a stumble,
Then collapse on his back and stare up at the sky.
And lo and behold in the clear cold night,
Like condescending drops of jade,
Those patronizing points of light,
Smiling smugly, see through his charade.
A moonlit pool reveals his reflection,
But Narcissus once, no longer he sees,
Just the grizzled remains of his former perfection,
While the stars they laugh softly ignoring his pleas.
His heart turns to ice no warmth is retained,
So he fashions a rope from his anger and rage,
A gutter spawned wretch is all that r