Internal Warfare
The passion pours impatiently as he pauses… on thoughts
caught-up in a lost world - his calculations just make noughts…
& crosses the thin line, - while divine forces never seem to listen
just imagine an inner prison where realism meets idealism…
a cataclysm of events taking-place within the soul of a living
being praising the all seeing seems to do nothing, - but curse him
now for the worse part his heart has healed, - but is still hurting
uncertain, so he stays away from those that play mind-games
unstable in a way, - unable to say why each day is a pain…
since birth his worthiness has decreased to less than shit
no-one can help him quick, - not a priest, nor a nurse’s prescript
therefore, he sees sickness nestle in the thickness of his skin…
realising that if Eli won’t help him… - he’ll just never win…;
Brain & limbs become numb in this glum pit where he lives
it’s the opposite of cliché the way he forgets, yet never forgives
shivers sent down his spine reminds him of times traumatic
raw static raising the hairs, thriving on fear, he’s a sure addict
reaching radical realms - which rise above the laws of average
but his known knowledge drifts as if its existence is surplus
in this circus called life, - rife with disturbance that murders
or mauls self-assurance on purpose like knives stuck in girders…;
sitting in the half-lotus position, forever feeling fucking nervous
imagining a shitty future, knowing he probably deserves it
since the sins he commits brings him to way less than perfect
personal conflict twists his guts into palpitations & knots
the sun is lost in this darkness where spirits stay in the frost…
He asks GOD, “What’s the use in me existing without adore?”
bleeding inside, - he wonders why the Lord seems to ignore
his screams from the heart… leading him to doubt all-the-more
reading biblical scripts, he now insists, “Life is all about a war”
.