PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My body is just a shell,
I realize that now, as I'm sitting in Hell.
My soul is a wavering gold,
Unfortunately, still young but growing old.
My fingertips show outlines,
Of my spirit trying to break thorugh the confines.
My physical bodily is too small,
Much too tiny for the spirit about to fall.
They say only ten percent of our minds are at work,
And here I use all of it, in this damned murk.
My feet don't touch the ground,
It seems my spirit is becoming more sound.My blood trickles, then pours.
My body cannot accept my spirits lure.
I want the garish light of day,
No matter what the demons say.
My soul's mouth lets out an unholy roar,
As I rip from my shell and soar.
My pride is ripped despite freedom,
Because I know I won't be allowed in God's kingdom.
"At least not yet," I sigh,
"I will seek salvation over my demise."