Said the soul onto its fate, "How can you stand and judge so

severe your own manner. I have no chose but to walk the path

which you have lain, and now you stand aside to watch the thing

you slain.

Here you are in I, were you deny with pride, the thing every

soul has the right to hold, with out which I can no longer claim

my life my own.

How can you spit upon your own mask, the being that now

stands for your own doing. How can I, tell me, how can we be

judged, can control, dictate or even reveal the manner to which

we fall in love."

How can I be judged.