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A dark poem about doing what it takes to survive an abuse and torture filled past |
Upon This Soul by Keaton Foster Upon this soul There are bones Killer be kind Whispered most times I was sorry In those moments No longer Have I since been Unforgivable Are such sins Meaning and motive Matters not Immovable Was the force Undeniable Was the cause Dead is death Life, such a mess What has been Will never be again Suffer they did Further I must I will pay Every damn price As I always have As I always will I am right When I’m wrong Because what I know Surpasses all else The darkness falls An emptiness sprawls Forever it goes Always does it show The truth of this fight The reason for such spite Upon this soul Everything is God knows He won’t forgive How could he ever I am not his Nor is he mine But regardless of Lacking allocation I shall be doomed For all that I’ve done And what I’ve become These hands are mud Clean they can’t become My eyes are sunk Deeper than perception This mind, a prison Within confinement Beyond reasonable My callous heart screams Fighting to explode Tearing itself apart As the reality of life Holds it together Upon this soul There are bones On my hands There is blood Things that can’t Won’t ever be undone I did what I did Willingly I’ll admit Survival The greater need Doing all that has been Within the confines of this My own preservation Has always meant more I am right When I’m wrong Because of what I know And what I’ve been shown I wish I could change But of course It’s far too late God won’t forgive He will only judge I am not his He is not mine But by his rules And the rules Of all humankind I will pay Every damn price Upon this soul There are bones Maybe they deserved it Then again Maybe I did And still do? Upon This Soul Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2019 |