Poetry is a reflection of the soul
If so what does that make my soul to be
A reincarnation of Satan's dark side in me

The words put my hurt on to paper
Despite my fingers that were badly bitten
By the bold and merciless life
With my shaking hands this poem I had Written

The inc is hard to come by
And is running out fast
Will there be enough for me
To lay out the travesties of the past

My heart has been brutally bruised
Death's arrival brought me to my knees
I have wrongly been accused
For pleating my melancholic pleas


To be redeemed for all the wrong that I have committed
Don't I deserve redemption as well
The gates of chaos smugly greeted
My corps who came to grace the all mighty hell

At least provide me with an easy sentence
My sin wasn't all that bad
Just as long as you kindly spare my soul
...Forever I will be truly glad