With all this talk of heaven.
Lapping at your feet.
Washes only the surface.
Never flowing deep.
For inside the bones are rotten.
And the sins stain and swell.
Redemption is forgotten.
Perpetuating your own hell.
Tag: wave
Direction
On this rising tide, I’ll find my light.
That pulls me back to the shore.
Then leave the misery, like flotsam on the waves.
And think of you, nevermore.
