I WAIT LIKE A BEGGAR
AT THE DOOR OF THIEVES
HOPING FOR CRUMBS
FROM THEIR TABLE
A TABLE BUILT
WITH MY OWN HANDS...
FASHIONED FROM FINE WOOD
GATHERED IN MY YOUTH...
I STAND LIKE A PAUPER
NEXT TO THIER LIES
CONDEMNED BY RIDICULE
FOR MY MISERY
MISERY
I SUFFER
BY THE VERY ONES
WHO BARTER NOW
OVER THAT WHICH
THEY TOOK FROM ME...
PROFITING FROM IT
AS I STARVED
MY PATIENCE RUNNING THIN
I PLEDGE TO MYSELF
I WILL NOT DIE
UNTIL THEY SUFFER...
I WHO WAIT
LIKE A HUNGRY WOLF
FOR THEIR EXIT...
THEIR SWIFT DEMISE
I THE WOLF...
THE SHADOW HUNTER
WELL SUITED AGAINST
THEIR SOFT FLESH...
Bobby Jameson Oct, 1 2009