On a wickedly splendid day we sang,
To higher powers within,
As the Sun rose through,
The Dark that day;
A fear within me sprang.
I went right home,
And fervently prayed,
For the fear in my heart; to remove,
And the beast on my shoulders; to slay.
Pages from the Holy Scriptures,
I tore and plastered to my walls,
And, the Red of Forgiveness, I showered in, tall.
Paraphernalia, paraphernalia,
Yes, the Heart…my heart, was but paraphernalia.
My fingers are now tired,
From clenching my fists,
My eyes, have no more tears to cry.
My mouth; no words to speak.
I roll on to my side and hold my breath,
As if air, or its lack thereof, would cleanse my soul.
–
I haemorrhage from the thought of thinking,
I haemorrhage, willingly and all the way through.
–
I haemorrhage, cleansing my past, present, and what may come.
Into a vessel, from which He may drink,
When He denies me access past the gates He’s built.
I bare my heart,
I sheath my sword.
I lay down- Give in
–I Surrender–
Leave me but the clothes in which I came here, Innocence and Love.
And maybe joy.
libération 
This is poetry. Honest and direct thoughts. I have enjoyed your poetry this morning.
Thank you for your words, John.
And thank you for stopping by. I Hope you enjoy what I have in store as well!
I look forward to them and you are welcome.
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.
Thank you for sharing this with your followers as well ^^ I hope they appreciate it as you have.
They will. I added you to my favorite and you are welcome.