Minister

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
In this private session of inexperience…

Submitted: January 07, 2007

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Submitted: January 07, 2007

A A A

A A A


If I drink this poison,

Will it lead me to my fate?

In this private session of inexperience…

 

My sins are dripping with passion.

This is fucking killing me.

Ripping my insides out…

Owned by this blood fetish of yours.

 

A minister of deception,

Fully treacherous,

And incoherent to the lies you’ve spread.

 

Instead of healing,

I fade…

Fade from these illusions I set up.

Just to gather up some more insecurity.

 

Just continue running away,

Away from the misery of life…

 

I’ve become weak from my own loathing,

With the air so full of hate…

You hold the rope again…

The rope around my neck.

 

There’s a pattern here,
Killing us even faster…

This pattern of self-destruction,

Mutilation becoming addiction…

 

But, dear Minister,

When will you let me be?

When,

Will you let me free?

 

I look at the mirror,

And it’s telling me…

Not to trust,

Please,

Just set me free…


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