Seeking to Confess

On a vacation I need to travel

Into the unknown annals of Hell

Seeking a date with Mr. Devil

Conveying him that I’m on peril

It’s him who rescued me back then

It’s him whom I obeyed back then

He is the one who can help me quell

When I’m there in the annals of Hell.

 

Eyes moisten often when they see

The small shrub has grown into a tree

The stem swelled up with deep fixed roots

Branched out now and laden with fruits

The never ending process of synthesis

Not programmed albeit a vivid bliss

Shortly later this tree shall fell…

When I’m there in the annals of Hell.

 

Clean confession at the Devil’s threshold

Pseudo-young heart trying to tame the mind old

Ruckus inside; the soul damned, wilted

Battles inside for temptations; immorally gilded

Failed decisions, judgmental conscience

Compulsive disorders and a criminal offence

A story that the Devil’s stooge will tell…

When I’m there in the annals of Hell.

compulsionconfessional poetryOCD

◄ About The Hill Girl...

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