Salvation of My Soul
Deep down in my hopeless desperation,
and within the core of my quiet sorrows.
I insist on calling up on the Lord
and demand that He may take my sight, so that my eyes won't tempt me.
All of his creations are work of art.
I'm neither complaining nor discontented.
But I envisage as crippled without sight ever since,
for I believe that my legs
will not walk me into sin;
and my eyes will not lead me into sinful visions.
Sins are giving me a driven force to engrave a vision of myself,
so that my veers of ink meet its destiny,
and for the Salvation of My Soul.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Casket Of Hatred And Oppression
PuisiThese short poems ideas flow from my emotional self. They arrive the same way as dreams do. So always I begin with a head empty of words and let my feelings go flow. Read at your own Discretion
