Song of Innocence:

A bright light shining, 

Shining and radiating proudly 

O’er the land;

Proudly illuminating the poor

Hovel, the crumbling

Walls, the tired

Faces, the baked

Weeds.

The candle melts

Slowly, wax overflowing

Onto the worn, wooden

Table inside of the shack;

Yet the flame, the feeble flame,

Danced happily, breaking the darkness,

Mending the

Souls.

Cry of Experience:

Torn and patched,

The poor man’s threads 

Unveil the paleness of

His breast, the ailing disease 

As it spreads across the entire

Corpse.

He reaches into his pocket

To find emptiness,

Lint, and a rusted sou.

Tears ooze through the 

Cloudy and fireless eyes,

Streaming down the gaps in

His wilted skin.

Looking up, darkness and fear 

Engulfing all he owns, the poor

Man feels endless pain run down 

His spine and sadly closes his 

Eyes.