Nick Kasparie (3-30-94 / Quincy, IL.)
Contemplate in mournful silence a hero’s dream of lust and violence
Or an angel falling from the sky just to watch all goodness die.
Folly’s thought was to fight. Evil defied my crumbling might.
A victory for the menacing fiend who could not laugh and intervened.
So I close my eyes to open my hands and avoid the sight I cannot stand
Shades of yellow block the view. To sheets of green, he’s pointing you.
Where ghosts of idols lie in wait and jealous whispers feed on hate.
The haunting presence of a fissure cracking wide between two shapes of different size
Beckons thoughts of origin, and angels near shout out my sin.
The calling echoes through my mind, the fear of who will come and what they’ll find.
Pursue the dream of an honest fool who doesn’t think of breaking rules
Instead he stumbles onto crime; efforts to change him waste your time
Habitual actions that are bred in times of struggle only spread.
Malicious deeds of a hand once pure seek to kill the only cure.
It lies in every human heart, a will that’s free and sets a few apart.
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