The act, yesterday, buried within, 
a slice of temptation as I say NO. 

The evil decide what is an option, 
who decided that they were evil?

Their actions I suppose, suppose
I don’t, who judged me first ages 
ago said the same about me, who
holds the truth? Books turn yellow,
distress bursts, is memory shallow?

I jumped into the river, I drowned, 
memory is not as shallow as life 
had initially told me, enact, compile
rest the case, whistlers battle alone,
their song dissolves in the heaviness
of a storm, let the good solve their 
problems, who decided the good?

It was simple. Good was reasonable,
now, it’s everywhere even upon evil, 
the good appears upon an emotion,
why are we confused between evil 
and good?  I sit upon a gravestone, 
every year, upon the same, it reads:

You are a feather, always falling upon
a thought. If you don’t touch it, it will
disappear, if you steal it, it will haunt 
you to death, look at you… still here. 

I was still there, mourning the loss 
of what I thought I had, never had. 
The act, yesterday, buried within,
the more I wanted it, the less I had.

I said NO, but stayed there, evil 
is not an option if you’re not there.
If it calls you, walk away, stretch
the memory until you can safely
say, it is not an unfair judgement but 
a statement of fact, irredeemable? 
Perhaps, but emotion is not the rat. 
Signature Lina Ru