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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
