Scar Fest Poem by asef fakih

As life rivals, my chivalry to the highest point I know
a breeze so slow, silently blow, diseased by the flow.

And there was I, smooth(and) sly standing there alone
watching the sky, shattered by, a jiggered piece of stone.

Grieves of loss, (and) dark green moss, are born from the inferno of lies
silent darkness, (and) insane scar fest are seemingly the perfect alibis.

For a life so long, (with a) grief so strong, I outdid what I felt
strike of lord, with the naked sword, has always been far below the belt.