That burn on my leg.
Was it an accident?
Or a scar of my sins?
A scarlet letter
of my wrongdoings
My head is heavy now
very cloudy and dim
Surrounded by thoughts of the past
Every now and again
I stop and I think
about trivial things that inhibit my sleep
What good has been done?
And why should I care?
These splinters cut deep
from this cross that I bear.
The last piece of a puzzle
that just won't fit.
Or a paper cut covered in salt
It's not inherently bad
but it does it make it tough
to simply get up in the morning.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
That burn on my leg.
Was it an accident?
Or a scar of my sins?
A scarlet letter
of my wrongdoings
My head is heavy now
very cloudy and dim
Surrounded by thoughts of the past
Every now and again
I stop and I think
about trivial things that inhibit my sleep
What good has been done?
And why should I care?
These splinters cut deep
from this cross that I bear.
The last piece of a puzzle
that just won't fit.
Or a paper cut covered in salt
It's not inherently bad
but it does it make it tough
to simply get up in the morning.
