Dying slowly, and Doubting the reasonable existance that is my Decaying life.
You knw the lackings of my soul, Devestated I Deture frm the path I walk to lose the Deligence I once served u with.
Incompetent life seems to paint me wen I Deny the reason for my existance. I have lost all my Delight in sin.
Needless to say I am caught up in what I hate most and my Decaying soul Dies ever so constantly to the Definate realisation that I am what I hate.
Gone are the days of simplicity Desolated Depth of my inner condemption is never Distant frm me so save me if u will for I am. Dying. Slowly