"I'll drown myself in the lake fire, I might as well" I thought
"It's the only way I'll be exonerated of my burdens"
a book of matches to burn myself, so every scar can be a memory if I choose it to be
How could i own the narrative in this mental climate?
I've got the gumption to face my miseries, just haven't got enough heart to change anything
I thought I was doing the back stroke, pushing myself away from the things I fear
It turns out I was just flailing my arms about in an attempt to not be taken under by the waves
I begged to whoever would listen down in the Lake of Flames

hastily yanked from her womb yet again
Overwhelmed by the scent of brimstone, lead to that quaking screech
I've been kept up by her exorcising now since day of my fathers passing
Reborn into my afterlife