Consenting Agnostic


Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.

libération

On a wickedly splendid day we sang,
To higher powers within,
As the Sun rose through,
The Dark that day;
A fear within me sprang.

I went right home,
And fervently prayed,
For the fear in my heart; to remove,
And the beast on my shoulders; to slay.

Pages from the Holy Scriptures,
I tore and plastered to my walls,
And, the Red of Forgiveness, I showered in, tall.
Paraphernalia, paraphernalia,
Yes, the Heart…my heart, was but paraphernalia.

My fingers are now tired,
From clenching my fists,
My eyes, have no more tears to cry.
My mouth; no words to speak.

I roll on to my side and hold my breath,
As if air, or its lack thereof, would cleanse my soul.

I haemorrhage from the thought of thinking,
I haemorrhage, willingly and all the way through.

I haemorrhage, cleansing my past, present, and what may come.
Into…

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