I strolled among the throngs of thorns
I stood exhausted and weak.
I battled the demon with his own horns,
Also, I saw myself lay dead.
What was my name? Whom would I be able to ask?
I was so chastened ; my spirit.. so drained.
I kept running into some obscured thoughts,
some disdain that was concealed.
I didn't endure the war I battled.
I couldn't battle one more day.
Who had I moved toward becoming? Where had I gone?
I was lost in some way or another. What had I done?
I halted and took a gander at where I stood,
I no longer could take a new direction because I found none.
If no one but I could, I will change everything
yet, that is the reason it is called my fault.