2
I was cast away one Saturday afternoon,
War torn, restless, defeated, and starved,
Unwanted by Venus,
Therefore my form is of an infuriated Mars,
“Who does to stare at thee unloved” my disposition screamed from my soul’s summit,
Turned away the food of warmth and tenderness from my cold stomach,
“Your charity in a piteous chant is unwelcome yet appreciated”
Swimming deep in the wells of misguided hatred,
I drown only to find that pleasurable pain and painful pleasure are one in the same,
Finding strength in my wounded state creates valor and vigor,
Either that or I need to thank the healing source of brown liquor
