Waiting for a cost.

The never seen and lost.

What a martyr can be.

Yes a martyr, is seen.


To suffer the agony of eternal pain

To never touch the pouring rain.

It can be that for lonely fate.

Or lack a god and have one too late.


It isn't fair, it's the simple rule.

Principles and actions for every tool.

You cant stand up and have your voice.

Unless you're sure about the choice.


You look down upon the ashes grey

You finally know your own last day

You smile upon the sky so blue

Soon enough what's known is through


And when you know that this words you last.

Then you know of times you lived too fast.

Standing inside the dying fire.

In heat you begin to perspire.


And you suffer, and there is pain, and you are martyred, For love.


Yes love, There is know greater pain or torment.


"Like reality, poetry is what the mind makes of it"