I’m hoping my intuition will tell me if I got it wrong or right.
My faith is broken.
My heart is hardened,
I find myself unable to pardon a soul for even the tiniest of sins.
I’m a hypocrite because I need my own wrongdoings wiped away.
“How ironic,” The devil whispers in my ear, pure amusement in his tone.
My mind is drifting in and out.
Cool air and warm nights do something to me.
Moon, come and save me from this mental sea.
The night was dark,
and I tried to ignore the longing.
The voice whispering in my ear keeping the angel at bay.
Fast, then slow.
It’s the way my emotions run through me.
Cold then hot,
It’s how I feel when you look at me.
Overtaxed and stimulated,
An unwanted mix.
I hate myself a little less.
No longer stressed,
Repressed, by the recesses of my mind.
My thoughts only aligned for a brief amount of time.
The moon rose and peeked at me.
My heart raced.
It fixed nothing for my pain,
But for the moment allowed me to gain,
A brief reprieve from the mental sprain,
I’d found myself under.