There is a cool, clear evening
Outside my porthole of pain.
It is mopping up the dampness
From a gripping, impassioned rain.
An eerie longing is forming
Around my soul of wasting desire.
I can feel the Devil's winter
Boxing in my mental empire,
If I were not bound to the
Gravity of a disquieting sphere,
I believe my mind would wander
Into a pit sanctioned by fear.
Yes, my sanity hangs onto the edge
Of a chasm with a depth unknown,
But I cling to the walls of hope-
I love God's life as much as my own.
Poetizing around the world
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