Whose Slave Am I

Let me review my life, of the many falls The thinking gets deeper, asking who faults Sooner is not later of how I impress life Darkness always argued over life strife Love cannot sustain the pallor of clamor Only silent words in a mouth of glamour Bliss of surrendering and rest in my grave It may be well to die and cease to be a slave I trade my body for a plate of food Difficult hour, alone and seclude Yet I am still a man with blow if just loosen Dirty face, weary body with fractured bone Rain cannot wash the mock that defaced my well-being Neither do I can think of revealing my freeing There is no roof against my oppression Only white cloud that looms overhead has the guilt impression Now my heart is sore afraid of beating My smile was captured along with sympathy’s calling No chance to see the light only heaven will allow My life succumbed gently into heavens aglow July 19, 2015