Confession of Guilt

I never made it mine to become some great one

but only desired it because it was instilled in me

by false encouragement by a generation that never made it theirs

to honor

I've always wanted the most of obvious desires, because it was desired by all, because it was what all would want, because it is what all deserved

if only each was given their own, having there not being amongst the greedy.

Which I have no merit in, and this is of no humile hope

as I attest that I do desire my flesh and am connivingly in admittance of

having made my attempt to receive my contrived desire for filth and call it love.

If only I had done the will of The Lord, I would have received what I wanted, even though I am just another man, with his imperfections,

and in the eyes of the Lord, would let me be, seeing that, that would do,

with some humility and some prudence to know where to stop.

Since I desired to have a virgin and make her my w***e.

To what discretion, I do not know, since the depths of lust can be disgusting. And we've all seen what is out there. And we've seen what is within, and certainly I do not desire excrement, but something honorable.

How my love and youth has faded, how my love has faded, how my love has faded, how my hope has made it apparent to me, was sullied and died

while climbing the tree, to maybe someday know a woman who I could call the stone that all have thrown around, and hit me. My baby, my girl, my woman,

my love, if I could only call you that. But you are a liar, and I am only a liar who claims that I would not have been amongst you,

Killing others in character for my satisfaction. But this is no longer a testament of love. But confession of guilt, And I vehemently endure, without exclaiming to the world my idiocy.

But confess, that humility is now all that I care about, since I will not inherit but what can be made of pain.

Since I loved, and no one loved back,

since I had made a statement about life,

and was refuted and made indignant

since I was called a fool to put it simply

and my travesties were also offended calling my life a sob story

and moving on to their appreciation of their inconveniency.

Travesties and the inexistent tragedy that I so sought after to masochise

my lowliness and call it justified, my pride, becoming apparent.

I tried to call myself a king, and give myself to a demise.

Address it to the world, as though it was something to proclaim,

that pain was ever a reason to roar, But to call out to God because regardless we will be called forth to admit this to

Him anyway.

God bless,

Truth has never been an inconvenience.

And wisdom has not failed. But we have made our existence to be something else.

God bless, because He certainly does.