My way not yours
The path of the just
Re-kindle to rust
Grinded to the dust
With no believing gut
Howbeit to believing
Not to be existing
The future of my reading
In my meditating
At the cross over of a thing
ON the show at the cross
A path in gross
In my tears I burst
To see how he was slain
Agony of disdain
A prize is paid
For me not to be raid
So that I can be grade
Never to derail
The path of raid.
Aphorism CITY 