Darkness Of My Heart

Quaint little house, oh, so spotless white,
So innocent, clean and pure, bathed in light.
Inside this house, so cosy and fine,
This house is my heart — this house is mine.
Wherever the sunlight touches, quite clean,
But in the dark shadows, demons unseen.
In here lives a tortured man — the real me.
Every day I fight myself — fight to be free.
In here are my thoughts, the gross and vile,
Things that make me sick, and hate bitter as bile.
I may seem alive, but I feel mostly dead;
I’m living in an atmosphere of pure lead.
A whited sepulchre, tomb for men deceased,
Filled with rotting bones on which worms feast.
Every second I’m waging a ruthless war,
A war unlike any war, a war not bound by law.
Tortured soul of mine, trapped in this abode,
Crushed and weighed down with a heavy load.
The darkness presses so hard around —
I scream yet no help seems to be found.
God, help me please, I’m stuck. I need You.
Come and do whatever it is that You must do.
Come and save me, make my sick heart whole.
Darkness of my heart! God! Save my soul!


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