The Human Is So Frail, ljóð frá 23. febrúar 2023.

Thankful not? So think it's duty bitter?

Thrust the soul in deepest puke...

Even parents spoiled will spit it out,

splendid how you find it in the souk.

How will still the human search for love?

Heaven lost above?

Care not for the quitter,

came to teach the doubt...

Giving more of goodness, always losing,

grim they stab you there,

if you try it, even dare...

angst and bitterness when someone's chosing.

 

Almost dead, but nothing makes that mercy,

moths are flying, cover ground...

Locusts, plagues and pity what is left!

Primetime for the evil, biting hound.

Do you know what's soaring, sweet and right?

Say it every night?

Pity all them Percy,

pride they better heft!

Friends they can not find here small, but mistrust,

foul we can not speak...

Whom to really trust as teak?

taking home what soul could really dismust...

 

Power eaters, all you thought were better...

even those you trusted, fail...

The Bible's god is Devil, deem it so,

daunted 'cause the human is so frail.

Am I saviour? Who will have that might?

Hear or know what's right?

So you gain to get her?

Growing tired? No?

Still I pity mother, more and father,

me and all the rest.

Nothing living, boasting, best,

burn they us and crusify, I gather.