i’m sorry for my hatred. i’m trying to purge it out of me.

the stuff it burns like a thousand suns inside of the

part that needs to grow most assuredly.

i’m sorry for the way it seems to scorch the parts with meaning

sorry for letting my spirit turn into gasoline.

all i’m hoping is that still remaining after the end of my soul,

after it’s burnt and the ashes fall,

is my faith, of great worth, I’m told…

laying there in the purest form of gold.