deepundergroundpoetry.com
in the sacred halls of sorrow leave no footprints
hurtful words cut and I look at the blood loss
I look around me then down
it is my very own soul bleeding metaphors
sorrowful redemption when I swing wide
inside my soul I keen
tears of night's own ash
regret sears the pneuma marring it
we bear the wounds of this life
I wake on the morrow and walk on
it is for me to act as my morality says I should
schizo as I am marked
I make no excuses
my soul's own heart tells me when I am in the wrong
I reflect the wisdom of the stars
shining on humanity with truth
cynicism has no place with sadness
a cynical view will only promote more death of the being
arrogant hedonism speaks volumes
in the tomes of pain I am named
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