Thursday, April 4, 2013

On sin


To err, the biting of that blade
That cuts to marrow and deeper
Wielded by my own cursed hand
My damned feet run to the reaper
No longer any rest in mine own land
Fallen to the hell that I have made

The darkness grips, pillage and raid
My soul has rotted, been torn to slivers
Pleading with the last gasp I care to make
His cross! Pouring out its bloody rivers
The suffering gladly made for my sake
The ransom for my soul is paid





God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey

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