Far gone now is his thirst to smile,
In the midst of insanity and clear mind.
A rumbling heart and eyes so vile,
He spits in the face of mankind.
Still are the banks of his Nile,
The blood in his veins doth unwind.
Cleaning his waters with blood meanwhile,
Artifacts of old faiths does he find.
To the sky he looks and gives a sigh,
All around him tends to disappear.
To the heavens with longing does he cry,
Begging his Lord to rid him of fear.
Now a mountain he stands, up so high
And now vile eyes pierce through tear.
This man has never a stomach quenched,
Though broad his back, he has starved.
With bloody fists and sweaty stench,
The stones of life he has carved.
And when the world wants him dead,
He will not ask: God…why me?
A Hungry Man’s life he has led,
Unto which he eternally screams: