And, I ask you

And I ask you

Do you still fight your sleep, old man?
With your rough hands...you...rub your face off
Those memories of wrongs done...at a time when you were young...barely...a man...
With your rough hads, now lifting the barrels...you splash off your face...the memories of wrongs done...at...a time when you were merely a boy
I ask you...have you any memories...recollections
Regrets from a time or the thoughts marked by tombs with few words...beckoning...always remember that it was never spoken willing to forgive that which men readily forgive
Sadly understanding....they understand in unison...this wrongful death of...when I think
I ask you this. You, as a man, have created these laws for me to abide and it seems...as the sun unveil...as she schemes to strip you, like a whore, and bare your lies as if dirty skin...marked...bane...caste...filth
Dishonorable.
You created such words to strip it of all use when I moralized
Made extinct that which you taught...lies...truths...control...
You are a pick for this rock but as you chip me to stones and your mind makes of me...memories...like your stoning
I ask you this, does your mind dream of ways to forget...invent arts hoping to muse...you'll forget...bid you her way to the ease you've always chosen...
And, I ask you this...are you ashamed.