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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1123660
Forgiving ones sins is tuffer than it looks
-Only we have the power to forgive...ourselves-

Did she not hear
My heart fall
The gulping noise
From my throat
Or the floor collide with my tears
My weeping voice call
For her to rise
From the nights ebon cloak
And awaken back to my world
Of dreams and nightmares
That someone once said
Was just the goblet of life
A cup that spillithed over
Many a time before
And my soul once smooth was now curdled
With sour and bitter despair
Starts to fade
To shadows from it's once shining light

God forgive me
All my sins
I fell to my knees
To beg her forgiveness
She had seen me
Fall to the passions of my whims
And begged and please
A stranger in our bed in tenderness
In love and affection
That is the lustful beast
Of carnal cries of desire
And screams of passions sweetness
We defiled the love of errection
That was raised five years past

I weep at having become a liar
And she walked in unnoticed
Following the trail
Of strewn clothes
To our bedroom door
And she looks in
A wounded animal
Grief striken tears flow
As an ocean crashes against the shore
Our love, a thousand crystals of sand
Slip though my open fingers
Into the casm that has sprung
Between us.

Father, I have much to confess
My sins are multiple
I have done many things wrong
Made many a poor choice
My evils are numerous
God bless
But he damned even his apostles
Even his son
She had run with tears flowing
As the rain fell outside
She had gotten behind the wheel
Shaken, dishelved, and broken
Lost inside her mourning
She drove as reckless as an ocean tide
Her fate was sealed
The angel of death had spoken
This was to be her time
It was my fault father
I was the arcitect of her demise
Will I ever be forgiven
Will he wake her from this sleep
Will I ever be alright

"Why do you torture yourself
My so
Why do you weigh down your soul
With burden?"
The confesional screen slid itself
And I am looking into eyes that burn
I stare mouth agape at a damned angel
Whose name is invoked by only the arrogant
The Stupid
The Nieve
Or the Insane
"Why do you, when that is my job?"

Madness consumes my head
Hell fire dances and weaves
Inside my brain.
It sears my soul with the flames of penance
That never hurt me any more
Than my own tortured heart
Her sleeping body lay
Upon a flaming pire
Only a short distance away
An I scream as I am torn apart
I plead for her to wake
To cast away the ebon cloak of night
And forgive me
So that I may
In turn
Forgive myself.
© Copyright 2006 CoyoteSins (coyotesins at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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