Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Stolen Innocence



Blood stained hands hold a breaking self together
A sign of my fleeting but genuine affection
Writings across an imaginary wall like no other
In the color closely resembling that of passion
I tried to wash my hands with scrubs and stones
But the blood won’t come off in murky water
Only truth can make them seem clean indeed
Death is the freedom that we all seek

Used to marvel at shooting stars
Till I learned they were falling angels
Discarded for having human flaws
Left scars on this human heart
They hit the ground no wings no sound
Smokey blackness heavy like ashes
Like broken dreams they litter the floor
Soaking in blood like they did before
Whispered truths sound just like lies
They cut so deep they hurt in my sleep
Hard to carry cause they’re just as sharp

Infected needles may break the skin yes
But, only to heal partially what's dead within
The street corner is a welcoming inn
Much improvement to the cold hell I was in
Judging eyes saying "You need Jesus"
How dare they say that when they don’t have Him
Scary to think though is that I do need Him
And when you see Him tell Him I’d like to meet Him
I’ll be right here in my welcoming inn
Just say it’s Him and I’ll welcome Him in

Bruised back yes on to the next
In this dark prison my only escape is
In excess these drugs, booze and sexes
Nocturnal creatures know my name by heart
Their demonic caresses cut through to the bone
They cut just right to let the soul seep out slow
Leaving bloody traces of pleasure and pain
Motionless I lay in a corner in broken glass
Looked over like these used condoms
Filled with stolen innocence

Lost and forgotten this too shall pass

1 comment:

Semaphore said...

You have got to find more time to write and post - you have a unique, authentic voice.