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WHO WILL FREE MY SOUL?

Criticism and sarcastic words is all i hear,
Nobody ever appreciates my efforts.
Failure and fiasco is all fear,
Inspiration derived doesn’t seem to comfort.

Mask I put won’t conceal my pain.
Favors made, countless I pray.
I’m being controlled like horse’s rein.
To my oppressors, I am a prey.

Torturing my body will not tame,
The deeds done won’t reveal my compassion.
To go down this way will only embrace my name.
But who ought to test my oppression?

My character resembles a fragment,
Nothing to reform to, my incarnation unknown
Broken inside diversify my temperament,
When I die, will I reincarnate and be renowned?

My purpose in this world is incarcerated.
Confiscating my dreams in contempt,
My dilapidated soul is imprisoned.
Who will bail me out? Oh! Dear, who ought to attempt?

An endeavor to convince of my righteousness,
Is like beating a dead horse.
Crystal washing my mistakes won’t justify my fallibleness,
But will craft my conscience till I passenger the hearse!

					By Willem Pietersen

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