Bushes bow to bear br The brunt of the boots; br The satirical rope of destiny br Pull me to the edge of the garden; br br Cumbersome creepers br Cringe within own embraces; br Thorns go flat at heads br Sucking blood from toes; br br Wisps of smoke hang over br Soaked footpaths where br Burnt carcasses lie twisted br Like commas; br br The God feels guilty br And hides in the craggy br Inside of a roadside temple. br Having lost His own game.