From ages, beaten, rotten,
He rises from his own ashes.
He touches the skin, venomous,
Of the one who had breathed the fire.
He burns bright, with envy,
With all the hatred within.
The skin bleeds and wails
On the mummified corpse
Of its own sins-
Its past deeds.
The past rises high
And swallows the dead eyes first.
The skin, once venomous,
Lies at the mercy of its own reflection.
Justice, they say,
Takes a long time to act...
But, they can only heave a sigh
When they finally see
The Time isn't as far
As it seemed to be...
