I am old and broken. Scared and tired;
Of existence and vastness of my own feeble mind.
Grand sunrises and pitiful sunsets,
All bargains that was left far behind…
I am lost and shattered. Voiceless and pale,
In unforgiving universe behind a rainbow bridge,
Amazing black stars and violent eternity,
Bereaved of emotions and coherent speech…
Forgetting and forgiving. Regretting and moulding.
I was. I will be…I am.
Longing. It’s a worst punishment. Not even agony.
Just slow burn…
Hopping – frail medicine prolonging bleeding,
Taking its turn…
For every deed – my own reciprocation –
My life’s, my soul’s, my heart’s damnation.
The desert of a broken being.
The ocean of a unclear suspect.
I have you know – I am still healing,
I have you know – I won’t stay dead!
For every lie that leaves your palace
For every myth I’m breathing in –
I’ll pay in magnitudes of hatred,
That won’t be bottled up within.
I chose, and choice was of a child;
Of a creation that was blindly neat.
It burned and tortured for a while,
One day it stopped. It reached its peak.
I am sagacious and psychotic;
All tricks, and masks, and aces up my sleeves.
So bored, so calm, so nervous and exotic –
The demon crawls on broken knees.
Regardless of my story wording my features morphing slow;
I cannot catch if words I say unfazed you,
I cannot swear it’s not just for a show.
I am an animal in binding.
I am so human, cut off from my worth.
The scars on skin still raw and binding;
I guess my sin was my own birth.
However, I am made of fire.
There’s stubborn itching in my veins.
What I deserve I will endure. My ire
Will crush the ill put, vile reins.
I am of mortal’s indecision. I am of God’s rebel.
The opportunity has risen…
This is my Gospel.