@Richiewest01 26 September 2020

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