I hate this.
This shell,
Littered with scars and bruises,
That I am forced to dwell in.
It is so weak.
It can be broken and battered so easily.
I just want to be free of it.
My soul wants to roam this retched place
Without a worthless body slowing it down.
But alas,
I am still stuck.
Forced to suffer in this shell,
Until I am pure enough,
To be released into a state of bliss.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
I hate this.
This shell,
Littered with scars and bruises,
That I am forced to dwell in.
It is so weak.
It can be broken and battered so easily.
I just want to be free of it.
My soul wants to roam this retched place
Without a worthless body slowing it down.
But alas,
I am still stuck.
Forced to suffer in this shell,
Until I am pure enough,
To be released into a state of bliss.
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