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I strolled among the throngs of thorns

I stood exhausted and weak.

I battled the demon with his own horns,

Also, I saw myself lay dead.

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What was my name? Whom would I be able to ask?

I was so chastened ; my spirit.. so drained.

I kept running into some obscured thoughts,

some disdain that was concealed.

I didn't endure the war I battled.

I couldn't battle one more day.

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Who had I moved toward becoming? Where had I gone?

I was lost in some way or another. What had I done?

I halted and took a gander at where I stood,

I no longer could take a new direction because I found none.

If no one but I could, I will change everything

yet, that is the reason it is called my fault.