Dust To Dust

The sanctity of my soul
is held in my own hands.
For Lucifer I try not bend
to his hellish demands.
Cross this man you’ll see
a certain ferocity take root
to the fiddle of a fierce lit
flame that can be astute.
The devil he has a power
to consume most my soul;
at times I give him some
blind unknown control.
I am the dust that flails
about with no heart I fail.
I am some beast in dark a
creature from my own hell.
The Lord I guess he hears
my failing hands he sent
them to me so I’m in prayer
where I tear flesh to repent.
Why you will ask I’ll say
I pray for a day I can trust
I am a man of conviction
constructed not just by dust.
May my peril be sobering;
shall my Lord be pleased
from how this peril a devil
has placed me on my knees.

* This is my most personal poem I’ve posted on this site. Please be gentle and excuse the tone. Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day.

Love You All,


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