Fruits Of Sorrow

They call me names

I worship pain.

I haven’t slept for decades

Only to realize that 

An enemy is a friend.

Have you tasted the sweetness 

Of the fruit of a tree 

That stands on a land 

Where the dusk mourns

The death of the day

And spends its youth

In rituals of the dead.

Go tell them, I am drunk

By this sweetness.

I have fostered forests 

By the seeds of joy

Buried inside 

Fruits of sorrow.