I on this hill of hatred, harming
myself for missions unfulfilled,
These culling chastisements, I
cast on my burdened back,
and my words wasted,no
worth nor use to you.
Expelled from ears, unwilling
for my merciless devices,
I am but wasted material, meaningless
garments no one would garnish.
Slowly they sear me in half, my soul
no longer my loyal saviour.
This poem can be read on poetry.com- http://poetry.com/poems/350076