I've been told

I am a lot

of things -

once a piece of gold,

another - empty pot.

Hell, kings!

Am I empty still?

Am I a rose on Rosemary Hills?

Why can't I cut you off and lay you down again...

To feel the rain, the water... and the language plain?

I've been told

a lot of sentences.

Not one has been wrong.

I've been fought

with a lot of warriors.

Not one of them has felt as distraught

as I am.

as I've always been.

Farewell, my sin!