trying to be his own redeemer
in the cold light of another sad day
he looks up from the depths of his empty world.
The sky is a dream cemetery
where the dreams he failed to make real are buried.
Broken glass-like tears fill his eyes
his begging soul is on its knees.
Mercy is an unforgiving gauntlet he is continually running
confessionally seeking to unburden the weight of every secret wrong
still alive and at home
within his dark recesses, clinging, tugging at his weaknesses.
Surely somewhere in the corridors of his mind,
there has to be a door he can unlock
and free long-forgotten and warmer memories
he could reincarnate, those of the cleansed man he used to be
before the siege of self-destruction
before Satan began sitting on his shoulder
before heaven had removed the signs to a righteous life.