Poem -

Rasputin

Rasputin

An intoxication
That behooves me.
Tis all I am to know?

Where doth thee reside?
Within my heart?
Or better yet, within thy mind?

I cannot endure
These trials, no longer.

They thwart me
A ridicule, they are.

Who am I to you?
A miscreant;
No purpose hath been given.

My Lord, my savior
To save whom?
Not me, for have it.

I belong no more
Amongst those that surround me.

Given what?
Too many gift to bury
But bury, I must!

Humiliated.
Stripped of thy own dignity,
Tis be your will?
For me.

But why?
I question your devinety
For nothing, but shame
Be upon my head.

A drunkard.
A rasputin.
A servant
Be all I am.

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