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God's Image
My numb soul. I peep inside its dark hole. Many sins done rinda! Now pay the toll.
Mad heart thinks. My mind scolds. What I have turned into. A man in monster’s fold
The ink of my pen. Comes from my bleeding heart. My head hangs in shame but my
emotions aghast. I write these lines: my blasphemous attire. He prepares for me – The Fire
Fire, you Gnostic element! burn me till I turn to – ash
Ash, on the floors of my dreams – washed
Washed, by the waves that advent from my – fate
Fate, which bewilders my – mind
Mind, which has become the prisoner of my – heart
Heart, a criminal without any – charge
Charge, my emotions with – redemption
Redemption, which I pursuit for – an assumption
Assumption, tricks my conscience – laid to rest
Rest, a fugitive living in life by alias of – death
Death, cover my deeds of filth and – shame
Shame, a paradigm shift from pride and – gain
Gain, nothing in this world but comfort of – pain
Pain, I bleed from my bloodshot – eyes
Eyes, trade my soul for the place in – hell
Hell, which burns fueled by – stains
Stains, of sin which fill megalomaniac vessel of my – human mire
Human mire, the brush that paints my soul’s – caricature
Caricature, is what I have become of God’s Image.
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