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Rated: 13+ | Poetry | Other | #1942401
Thinking about life.
I am spinning in a dream

and it really seems obscene, along

the way I see a shooting star

and a sun beam.

But I am walking to the sun

along the freedom of a gun

and I want to tell you about my

success story, but I don't have one.

See, this life is like a sea-

waving and lurching with a propensity

to plunge and cover everything

inside of me.

It's so dark, that I can't see what

is even behind me, below, beyond.

I'm looking for a god mother and her magic wand

to get me out of this mess

before midnight slices into madness.

But I am afraid that the delay

of this salvation is slower than a fire engine

truck with its dalmatian on the way from Alaska to L.A.

Damnation is displayed on the table and

needs paid. This fable needs slayed.

In a prison I am arrayed in rags and dirt.

This world always offers me continuous hurt.

I start to hate, to embitter and fume-

that there isn't much time before I lay in a tomb.

This life is so hard, so pain-filled and mean,

it's unfair, and dirty and the wrong reigns as king.

I can't even scheme a way to get by,

a way to forget and a way to fly high.

It seems I have literally bought every lie

that this world is my home with the smell of apple pie

filling the senses of my depravity.

While living in a city of iniquity I drain the stain

of redemptive quality- the only thing that sets me free.

Wait. Not free as in freedom, but unto captivity.

We all are slaves to something, indefinitely.

We are slaves to sin or to righteousness,

I have no right to address such mightiness

that calls the ways of science into distress,

breaking their laws of what can make any sense to us.

The one who can make, create, break and take away

is the side that I want to stay on.

But I am not always delighted in the way its paved on.

Sometimes I feel the pawn,

used and played till the end of my days

when I am taken to the side, and off the stage.

I am a pawn who thinks I am King.

But I did not conquer any grave or ever take away death's sting.

If I served the king and lived the game,

I would gladly sacrifice to save.

It is sacrifice that saves

the people thrown into the sea's waves,

and the hurting who are hating the ways paved.

Grasp the reminder that this world is not our home,

and our heart has a throne

that will always serve something.

Let it be to the sacrificing Savior, the eternal King of Kings.
© Copyright 2013 Sophia1001 (UN: sophia1001 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Sophia1001 has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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