A Wretch Like Me

Vanity burns in my blood, black vile in solid array

my sins in barrels disgrace a perfect and holy name.

Torn flesh hemorrhaging raucously in bitterness cries out disdain,

the dark feeding leprosy calls stronger to my claim.

Subside the burning screams, death rakes its own demand,

I will not look; I will deny the blood dripping from my hand.

What seething infection simmers beneath my skin to

devise such a plan? Heart beats its own deception, pleasure to meet you, I am man.

Metal shards sing to pieces with every rage fused blow,

crossed and crazed to the agony from a wretched, hollowed  soul.

Raw fingers, numb to black, rip out the festered, blazing cords

of slaving devils and whispered threats sinking like a sword

that thrusts deep to end all that was my own. My own

is but a pool of lust mingled with salty sea foam.

Creature of man, no hope to stand so to fall to the

failing prince at hand that hates and thrashes viper’s fury.

Knees chipped out from me so to kneel would be my last

and tasting of the bitter earth blaspheming of my past

that has bound me to its gravity, broken bones and purpled bruises,

I stare at the hill and it confuses me.

I drop the bloody spikes, the hammer and the thorns,

I see now all too clearly the heaviness adorned with

earthly woes and wages that mankind was bound to be born

atop Hell’s breaking peak. We are raised on brimstone’s street.

Everything surrounds me on fire, thoughts and perceptions

burn with the stakes that are real. All of this world flies dying,

few notice the redemption colored seal.



“Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.”