My fall, my rise

This stench of evil is fast gripping me,

Every morning these trials on me be.

I am a god in my territory;

I create what kills the soul and body,

Then later I suffer consequences.

I die everyday, to rise everyday,

Falling as much as I advance ages.

Every fall I take, I always rise twice,

For the birth of me was but less an ounce.

I handle life, death, and as much can bounce;

For the birth of me was but less an ounce.

I take pride, not in what I say or do,

But in what I believe, that all is true.

The end, ends in this, that I fall again,

And rise again as one born less an ounce