Gifts of men are many
Some of kindness
Some of harshness
Some to life
Some to death

One day I was offered a gift
Of death wrapped in shame
And humiliated, I viewed the pattern
Where men of gold create dust

So I walked away in mind, sad, destroyed,
Losing for life a song of serenity
I then began to understand
That I lived a lie, not believing,
The child of trust I am is my enemy