Restless soul wondering
Forsaken bests forgiving as my wondering soul travels, pondering all the events taken by his active hands to bear and his deceitful eyes be mistaken
Mistaken to be , what some consider great, his eyes only see that which he chooses
From standing by arms side to his brothers in blood and war
To crafting his art under the names of Italy's finest minds and hearts; he remains pondering as his relentless mind keeps wondering
"Why am I here?"
My purpose is fouled by the events of my past for there is no more glory in such hands and honest eyes and mind
All the glory resides in the serpents actions and misguided tongues shouted by the masses of men and women whom faith has forsaken
"I am not meant for this world"
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