If heaven would ever come down,
The seeds of the devil would feed off of me,
I'd drown in the painful deceit,
It would cause a distraction worth a crown,
Even I'd lean in for a fitful defeat.
Do you see the less, when there's always more?
Did Christ die for my mourning lies?
When everything is done, and no one cries,
Would you leave me bleeding on the kitchen floor?
Or let the Devil win with his worthless tries?
If ever heaven would ever let me even reach for it,
I wonder if worth is a word of nonsense,
Flittering with cognitive offense,
Deepening my hatred for the devil's pit,
Still waiting for Satan's cracking pretense.
Whatever tries to take me,
May the Devil run scared of truth and honesty,
That bleeds out of my hated transparency,
And runs full off of expectancy,
That life ruins even the best of me.
YOU ARE READING
Burnt Starlight: Book of Poetry and Prose
PoetryStars burn through the night like an everlasting glow, impeding the obscure darkness that fights for cover. What if starlight was burned away by the passionate fire of words? What would come of burnt starlight like cookies on a sheet? I still eat t...
