Incessant Tales

"I'll do it, I will

But let me in."

When there's a recurrence

Of error or sin...

That's what they say

That's what they think

It's no mere play

Can't be solved in a blink.

It's black and red,

Denied access to asset.

Like words of the dead,

That won't ever be relet.

Because they'd done it wrong.

Different from surmise,

And when bards sing their song,

It's never precise.

And the outcasts remain,

Away from haunts of fame.

It was their choice, their pain

That stripped them of name.