RMC

Kept from solace
from outside forces that pull.
Isolate then swallow
does the gloom until it’s full.

I send a hope a prayer
to persevere in my sin
to the Angel’s that care,
from the tales of lies asps spin.

Asps with posion fangs
they slither here me about.
Yet I dig deep to fill the hole
in my heart empty as I shout.

I fill it with confidence
and see my own wicked ways
where the outside forces
gossip and lie for days.

I must see the visions clearer
and pontificate my words
or the hurt will burn holes
in my mind making me disturbed.

Shall I follow those who
value a rush then a kill?
No I shall not for survival,
nor shall I for just the thrill.

Pain has matured me,
and trauma has me fastened down.
But in warm hearts I feel
warm my pitiful frown.