What a wasted wreck of being this is.
Transparent flesh and lifeless eyes.
A temple in which the secrets are masked with bold-faced lies.
A mind running rampant with scatterbrained thought and ugly form.
A body spent and a soul torn
The matters of life are torn and blotted out with repression and rage.
Brooding with rage and discontentment of life as it is, and no hope for a better tomorrow.
We all have sins that need forgiving.
Goals and ambitions that need living.
Do you hold a worthy position?
Are you living or are you just existing?
Death is nothing more than escape.
I pray to God, my soul he'll take.
I've drunk too much and said too little.
There is no meaning to this riddle.
Say a prayer, sing a hymn, get yourself together and try and try again.
