My soul is enshrouded in a purple gloom. Angels stab into my midsection with long sharp swords. Stabbed by the self same hands that loved me once. How shall I accept this your demise? I cant help and feel like a tree that watches the fox swooped up by the Eagle. I watch. Your devils are strong, they deem your death, mine too. Thirst dries my parched Aching body. On my knees I ask forgiveness for all Ive done to harm others. The ones I shall harm in the future. I tremble almost blissfully at my failure. The false father and flasher son teaching falsity burning in a fiery lake of reaching hands. Where is the onion that I can hold to pull me from my lake of sorrow. To see you hurt this deeply knowing I am useless as a stone. Devils were angels once. Friends can be enemies, but false fathers and false sons as I feel I am, suffer In sadness Caused Weakness
Posted on: Mon, 21 Jul 2014 10:53:27 +0000
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