There Is Only Guilt

 The pain is as real as the blade and it can only diminish as the anguish fades. 

On the inside there is nothing that can be done to make it go away except to give in to it in hopes that one day it will disappear. 

 

 I commend the my pain to hollowed ground and just as the flame carries away my sorrow so too does the earth bury my body for in it my pain lays. 

In death we are released from this heap of bone and flesh. But only God knows what lay in store for the soul born captive by this heap of flesh and bone.

 Cry me no more my bone against the marrow, let the pain drain from my veins just as water falls from the sky.

Unearth my lament and torture me no more for I have died and cannot hurt the anymore.

This my flesh I give unto you that you do nothing that I cannot do. 

 For in my time I have stayed these plagues to steal the heart away from this that is temptation. 

I cannot rest upon this blade drawn out vapor thin, until the time that such is due I give the payment unto you. 

 In the end I fear my pain will only be magnified ten fold for what is done cannot be UN rung and what has not been done upon my death cannot my mind be changed.

So for in the time that have I left upon this soil of dire duress, I will spend it wise to mask the devil of his due.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Stellar, piercing write.