WASTED

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*WASTED*

Sing a song to my scars,
Please tell the drummer to strike the spot of my pain.
Replay the scenes of my failures,
Sing the dirge and write the epitaph,
I really can't live.

Don't hide the truth,
My condemnation yet in my mother's womb,
My self atonement impossible,
My freedom tied to a wood.
Sentenced and serving, there is no end in sight.

Imprisoned yet self rigtheous,
Self justification, bland soliloquy,
Making an empty case to the universe,
Living in my delusion,
Courting with death.

Truth knocks - Tap, tap, tap,
Understanding dawns like the day,
Reality tries to speak, then stammmers;
Pause...
Then it blunts,
Who can deliver me from this body of death?

H.Sophia wrote
12-02-2020

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