Come, Fate, and show your hand to me <br />I need to know today <br />when will my mind again be free <br />when will the bastard pay? <br />Damokles, in uncertainty <br />you hang above, a threat <br />the thought of patience is for me <br />a stranger not yet met. <br />As in my dream a voice rang out <br />denying me his hand <br />I wanted to reply by shout <br />I could not understand. <br />'You need to be', the voice had said <br />'the man who stands alone, <br />without souffleur who would have fed <br />instructions to a clone.' <br /> <br />I took to heart the earnest words <br />and into war I entered <br />above flew vultures, as all birds <br />had gone as I now centred <br />my weapons to the villain's heart <br />a mess of useless flesh, <br />brute force against a work of art <br />a liar's cobweb mesh. <br />The battle raged, or so I dreamed <br />until the morning broke <br />and in the twilight, so it seemed <br />suspended from an oak <br />he had, a coward's last Hurray <br />deprived me of my dues. <br />I paused beneath the tree to pray <br />and did not want his shoes.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-his-shoes/
