Furtive Screams of a Christian

Though I've created my own Egypt Doing things as if God does not exist. Could not wait for the unknown. I'm burning with passion, inflamed with lust. Just! Because sin is the matter in the heart. I was told the lies that are almost the truth My mind sponged sinful ideas, and was left illegally unfolded to the dregs of morals beyond repairs. As a result the pain is too deep Piercing and violating my soul grabbing where it is small, drilled by guilt. I can feel each wrenching twists and turns I think I am not worthy for this Title. I'm being convicted a sinner My reasoning is the reasoning of a rebellious child, according to the scripture. been distanced by the code of conduct of Salvation. I am not worthy for this Title. Listen! You cannot pen down this poem without my Pangs. This is the immortal battle field as an inside belly foetus caged, struggling for rebirth. tangled with sinful cords choked to spiritual death. This is not onion dialogue but a cry for Redemption. Judge me on your way to your knees Brethren!