A Rogue Design

Maybe adrift I can
swaddle in power
of love but in the
hours past it’s sour.

Upon this precipice,
a tale told of lost ill
concepts grip and I
follow grips of a pill.

The lows grasp me,
and I fell before too.
So finding this depth
for me is not new.

So I kick up dirt I
tell the fates forever
to take this cup of
hate make as feather.

For I will call beast
what my beast draws
as my mind bends I
inside emotion claw.

Rogue I’ll become,
in a hate filled nation
where the weak are
left aching sensation.

Maybe adrift alone,
the beast will rise up
to draw the cup and
tell the pain enough!

Maybe I alone can
swaddle pain of mine
in the form not yours
but rather my design.