The Vultures

 
They flew in circles, round and round
Waiting for me to slip up or trip again
I could hear their wings soaring over me
Wanting to pick on my bones and flesh
…and I wasn’t even dead

Guilt is a motherfucker and a half to carry
It eats you up inside, alive and deprives you, relentlessly
Like vultures, these strange angels of death
Came to feast on this decomposing corpse, endlessly

And it wasn’t until one day I decided to forgive myself
I unloaded the burden for things I once destroyed
The faults that lingered for a millennia in my heart
Seemed to be swallowed up within its own void

A few days later I began to see things clearly
Understanding sometimes we
Fuck up
     make mistakes
          and correct the path
But guilt and shame are an awful blame game
That no one should carry like a constant bloodbath

Now whenever the vultures are flying over me
I extend these broken wings and rise above them
And with silence I only smile with jagged teeth
Knowing that for me, there is nothing left to condemn