Dread

When comes upon that time of dread,
will we hang so high our head?
will we look in meek dispose?
or are we blind to what we chose.

Can you look and see me still
person I hated with all my will
I spite thee so in all I see,
my mistake; I was looking at me.

Can't you see when I am blind
if I close my heart what will I find,
if all exists in temperance within,
where is myself, where does it begin?

I cannot see beyond my pride,
I seal my soul and cover my eyes
but reach still deep so stubborn mind
I must find myself or be left behind.