The evil men do lives after them.
To the future, sorrow is what they leave.
Is this the reflection of who I am?
Is this how I want to be remembered—
A shadow tangled in tomorrow’s grief?
With the burden of anticipation,
I create chaos from the clay of today.
Can time’s projection heal yesterday’s wounds?
Or am I carving scars deeper,
Passing down sorrow as legacy?
Can I shape a tomorrow
That outgrows the mistakes of time?
Is there a way for my guilt
To find a home in forgiveness—
A place to settle, at last?
Have I left for those who follow
Only the evil I do?
Are they doomed to this path of sorrow,
Or can the cycle break—
Is the evil we do truly who we are?