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.