Home » Poems » Aaron Mcintosh » Letter To the End Game

Letter To the End Game

Hope, that sounds so familiar to me,
I remember whenever I was a kid and it was so new to me.
Something fresh when the world had color, 
Now everything seems so dark and bitter.
Considered walking with Jesus? Used to be all me, I used to followed him faithfully.
Now look at me? Without an ounce of faith left,
I can't believe how long it's been since I've slept.
Left without ease and these torturing thoughts going through my head,
Embedded, wishing I was dead, Lifeless how I feel,
Just without a grave to lay my head.
What are you saying Aaron? Have you lost your mind?
 Man, that's the only thing that talks sometimes.
Wind chimes of voices that rots inside my head with its own thoughts.
 Wait, thoughts? Its own? That can't be right,
 You know what? I'll just leave it alone.
No rue anemone like the walking dead, except this is real. 
Dealing with being dead inside, following the crowd, they'll be by my side.
Besides, I just want to be like them, you know? Fit in with the crowd,
Drowned, lost in the beam of flask.
Masked by running my life with how the world’s current flows, 
Now that current has come to a halt,
Distraught, drowning all alone.
What about getting stoned? That'll bring you higher than those thoughts.
Yeah maybe so, change might not be bad.
Man was that sad, sitting against the wall,
Above the law, turning up on school nights.
Despite just sitting there pathetic, with no might,
No will to face the truth, no authority to face the facts.
All this is just an act in the theater called hell,
Jezebel laughing at me, sit as a jester in chains.
Restrained, no longer a threat in the Devils eyes,
Hypnotized, trapped with no out.
"Salvation”
What was that that I just heard?
Birds of white echoing down the road long ago,
Back when I was younger. 
That Hunger, I remember now, the old preacher talked about, 
"Salvation,"
There it goes. How can I come back? Until I heard the voice,
"Redemption"
Preemption of that which was familiar back then.
It became clear to me.
I was the victim, of deaths and sins sting.
I was the sheep that put him on the crucifix. 
I labored in sin and he took my shift.
Holes made in his wrists as our spots were switched,
Enriched by the last the letter to the end game.
Tetelestai,
My savior has set me free.

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.