Woeful Spectator...
- Lalima

- Sep 24, 2023
- 1 min read
How do you gloat when the mongrel
Cowers into itself at your grimace,
I cannot begin to fathom what must
Have infused such tragedy of power.
I don't paint a barbarian from innocence
Once in time I met the kindheart
Can't help but speculate your demons
Which has left you so deformed and cold.
I saw that face, shrunk into the skull
Teeth baring an awry leftover of life
Are we not all temporary casting in drama
Why waste away precious hands to bitterness?
But then...my closetful do not dance
In step with brutes of your past books
There is no analysis here, no appraisal
Only a woe of frailty in being the spectator.





slay