Change (a poem)

I am the one in the darkened corner, holding a sword of blazing light.
You refuse to see it.

I am the one speaking in many tongues, begging for the Truth to be known.
You refuse to hear it.

I am the one holding out a hand in comfort, pleading for you to get up.
You refuse to take it.

I am the one giving every breath all that I am, all that I hope to become.
You refuse to even try.

I am the one struggling under the weight of the innocents' burdens.
And you refuse to help me.

But some day, be it tomorrow, or a millennium from now, all this will change.

You will be cowering in the corner, in the darkness of your own making.
I will be holding my bright sword over you.

You will be cursing the One who sent me to do this task, and begging for one, just one, last chance.
I will refuse to heed you.

You will hold out a hand in violence, and a hand up warding off the consequences of your actions.
I will bat them away.

You will draw your last breath.
And I will shed for you tears that you refused to shed for yourself.