The nights have seen me sleepless
But I have seen the spring die
Brutally.
I have seen summers on fire with pain
And autumns pathetic
With wounds that bleed.
I have risen in rebellion against winters
That seemed cold
With bitterness.
I have risen with the dawn,walked,
Head held high,to meet
The morning.
Aeons, it seems, but yet your memory
And the brooding of wrongs
Can cut like a knife.
And I have struggled but not died.
Yes,the nights have seen me struggling
But I have seen the spring die
Brutally.
