POEM; THE CURSED & DISTURBED
God doesn't want me yet, the devil isn't through with me either...
Done things the Devil is proud of, God is ashamed
So many dark thoughts I had to make my favourite colour white.
The things I've seen is been cruel
You could translate the pains through my pupils
The feeling of death creeping to me seem suffocating but then it feels like I've already been there.
Life hasn't been particularly fair,
But what exactly is?
The devil has stripped me bare
And it doesn't feel like God is aware
I cover my ears, a scream frozen on my lips
As the flaps of invisible wings
Make me cower in fear
And tremble to my knees
Am I haunted?
Or demented?
Hunted?
Or just plain crazy?
I could go on and on, but it's time to hang...
In a place where eyes go blind,
And ears haven't heard,
So I may never again be found.
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