Why is it we like to watch a man when he is down?...
Dripping tiger's blood
Sweating the dry palate
A man's glories lie down in the dust before him
And we pass by our sallow selves to stare
Mocking his downfall
The bottom of a rock
Shall cry out or go plunging forth
To another destination
The yearlings snatched from his wretched hands
Unable to grasp his forlorn
Instead housed in a realm of bathing beauties
To the demise of his fruit
Spouting arrogance and narcissistic stature
Crashing wildly and profanely
Blinded by his own shadow and light
Where is the support?
Press falling in for each bitter word
The loved ones captured from afar
To "What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet lose his own soul?"
Calling forth angels before another tread.
Not to let him gash his foot upon the rocks.
Rescue him from his spiral
The genius craving mind... his worst enemy.