Constantly averting controversy,
Hurting from unnerving problems.
Not the worst thing I've unearthed inside,
The birth of mind-disturbing strife attacks my life, so I
Turn the knife and end the plight, cause
That's the kind of fright that strikes the right delight I see in sight.
In darkest night, sin harkens.
Vibrant demons mark their silent dealings with violence.
Screaming stops my lungs, no breathing,
Retreating feelings try to stop the gun from ringing,
But the voice inside my head that's pleading
Remains important and so appeasing.
Like a fiend I resort to that deemed purport,
A pristine contortion of me and distortion,
A means for war, hence demons worsen.
Cursed, I've seen adverse perversion.
Burned, at least the urn was worth it.
Dreams are but a sea of urges,
Waves of hurt; a fuckin circus.
Earth was keen to be so perfect,
But dirt, it seems, reversed its purpose,
Purged of peace by scheming serpents.
Words convene to verse excursions
Terse, obscene, and birth diversion.
Learn to breathe when yearn disperses,
Purely seek to preserve incursion.
When earnest deeds immerse subservience,
Evil creeds are sure to surface,
But thoughts serene will soothe the burdens.
Heaps of greed control these words,
Though, predisposed in certain versions.
Weeds they grow in fields of ferns, and,
No one seems to know the urgence.
Flowing streams bring treacherous currents,
Twists and turns that reap insurgence.
Since discernment keeps deterrents,
Court the beast with immense observance,
Or disease will curse life's brief occurrence.
Treat the deepest ravine of courage
With leniency so peace emerges.
Dreams are but a grieving circus,
That creep beneath your bleeding surface,
Seizing leagues of zealous verbiage,
Leaving hurt to skirt loves purpose, return concernment;
Submerge the cures for feeling worthless.