Is your find an ill mans job?
A free man's job?
A loathed mans job?
A sane man can never find you
A sane man can never love you

Beads that solemn glow,
Perk up my eyes with tragedies and flow,
Ensnaring my whim to wipe it away,
The tears that descend,
My body drowned in marks of spear,
In my hands I kindle a flame,
Tear to my flesh its pain so sour,
A hearty jubilance collapses in dismay,
My thoughts forfeit a mere clump of hay,
There is no afterlife to who doesn't believe,
Apart from this life there is more to grieve,
Am I a timeless portrait hoping to decay?,
Am I the assumed thrill of tomorrow and the obfuscation of today?,
My thoughts thinned to a buzzing sound,
Threads that break over a shallow woe,
A soul that bleeds,
The  swine it beholds,
I need a quilt,
For in this world I have gone cold.

The god who I hold so dear,
Wishes to have me nowhere near,
He partakes me within his closure,
Yet veils me of his signs,
Alas,
Distain espouses within,
Where does he want me gone?,
When it's his earth I lay upon,
May I inquire of my cause?
May I know what I was?
For I do not find me befit,
The sea left to lie,
to dry,
A devil with no temptations,
Nor the urge to pry,
Like a fatigue who's tiredness is due,
I am content with loitering,
The only source of hope that I cradle like a mother,
Is the possibility of you,
But there is no love,
Only hope,
Oh how I long for freedom,
Like the bird that never meets the sky,
I have espoused within what is expected,
So now I am breaking because I was never in my hands,
And I learnt that the hand of god/People isn't very gentle.

Why do I have to earn the salvation I seek?
To be so intervened in discomfort so deeply,
I sculpture a home in it,
I bestride me in delusion,
My inconsistence towards my self,
Ignites a flame in which I burn alive,
Thus
My memories are mere ashes
And I no longer remember your name nor mine,
My inconsistency of will,
Of mind and thoughts,
Of love,
Of meaning,
It invokes of my burdens and failure,
Bewitched to inconspicuousness,
Nothing descends upon me,
But mountain of realization,
That transgresses on all my hopes,
I am hopeless,
A fool,
A puppet of the greatest puppeteer,
An unvalued one,
My theory is based off nothing,
Thus,
I am too a void,
Driven to soak up everyone's essence,
Desperate as a sponge.

I reside in shallow desires,
That have burned to ashes,
A mere swine swindler and a mime,
Are my traits to define,
Exhibiting aimlessness,
I watch the stars align,
And for God to show me a sign,

Like a River sullen in misery,
Knowing it will have to fit In a pond,
I besiege my reach,
And so I preach,
My heart to not have it's way,
Now as a pond,
I reside without a say.

My eyes are like my fathers,
So is my heart,
No matter how much I try to undo myself,
or pick me apart,
He is a piece of me,
My bitter half.

I befall in deception yet again,
As you drank my blood in a wine glass,
Your mere presence leaves me crippled of senses other than my sight,
My heart beat induces every other sense numb,
It beats louder and louder,
Ensuing on me a maddening repercussion,
spirals of emotions swarm,
While my flesh rots,
As I have loved you with every vessel and there is none of me left,
Nothing more than a shadow,
That worships your presence,
And devours it's self in your absence,
My selfishness fails to Reason Infront of your heartless arrogance,
Indeed,
You have fueled a bizarre touch to my nature,
Yet,
my heart hums a tune in envy wishing for you to satiate me with your presence,
And engage with my hearts hollowness by being a permanent dweller,
So I can thrive in oblivion of my own tangible  hollowness,
I am deceased until you pour within me life,
Drop by drop,
But then you flicker a fire to watch me burn,
Your mistaken to think I have not  burned to ashes,
For I  am a moth for your flame,