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A collection of poetry that has recieved four stars or more at writing.com |
Here I am, bastard again, lost in a world of covetous sin, contained by the demise of values within, I contend I am no match for the fury that dwells within the pits of my being so hungry that I crave maggots in the mind of the righteous feast on their conscience so sight or morality is lost in an introspective fallacy of contingency. Within the night I lose sight of myself my heart on a shelf too high to steal away to Jesus so I'm left cold and alone to fight my own battle one man army fighting the hordes that seems to find joy in the demise of my soul nevermore will I be whole just a shell of a man whose thoughts leave him stigmatized in hand and looking to the hills for salvation to appear. seen the promiseland, yet know I won't get there with the rest of them I've always tried to better even the best of them but seemed to be put to trial and judged by the rest of them they want me dead like John the Baptist Nubian Princesses are calling for my head it's not enough that my eyes seen so much hurt, they've bled a thousand times blood clearer than the water Christ turned to wine I see the sign my time is steadily coming to an end and I will be standing there in judgement listening to my sins and thank bastard for his curse and hope my bastard does not receive because bastardy is hereditary and so is the world in which they are conceived To understand my words, you must first understand my mind. Balik737 |