RMC

Frivolity is by my count
in rare supply in the sky
clouds they will mount
an image for an eye.

See the storm it roils,
like the blood in me boils.
I ask those about me
and all they know are toils.

Saddness profound in
the beginning and end;
I have purpose I want serve us
wine to absolve all sin.

Closure for your demons
that bury themselves in doors
closed I hope you see them,
as the Lord implores us more.

Maturity seeds itself inside
a benign breath residing to comfort.
To hide the disguise in swine
the demons expelled upon we’ll dine.

Through me the Lord has begun
the spinning story already spun.
Shot through my heart like a gun
was the reality life has lost its fun.