My sorry heart, My father’s blood, still runs through my veins, still opens my heart, Light comes shining out. But the desolate darkness, Balls my fingers into fists, It bubbles blisters burns my hands, It floods with fury fights and fits right. It's got the good guy in me hiding scared, It kicks my humble heart around, It's got me feeding off the fire That could finish off this town It is eating out my insides As I am trapped beneath the floor. Oh it's got me good, It’s my spoiled blood on this oak tree It stains the bark from branch to dirt roots It cuts thick with pits and leaves It stains the sweetness from the fruits It kept me looking for communion some hiding spots off underground an open plot I could climb into So I could yell in your direction, An iron promise in my mouth A black out oath I swore and meant I’ve played the game, Here is one more day I couldn't concur yet again And it’s my dirty mind, With sinful tho...
Life and Poetry
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This Blog is inactive! I felt it was time to move on, but I wanted to leave my work on Blogger. As of 2013, I have been writing on another blog https://inbetweenjackswords.wordpress.com If you are interested in my work please go check out my new blog!