My wretched Heart races so rapidly beats and pounds as I take the Stage. Behind me stand stalin’s Sentry, sniggering with glee as the sinfonietta starts My Fifth and perhaps Final. For days weeks, months maybe more They tormented me tore at my Third tore at my themes Now I face the same fate As the faded. As the late.

My Redemption completes the crowd loves the Sentry leaves but Redemption? or Revelation? the truth of the fifth tale of restitution or wail of desperation