Shame, Guilt, Hate

JWKP98

I pray to God for salvation, but hope to burn in hell for how I hurt her so

As I fall further, I fall into greater comfort as I deserve the woe

My heart and breathing stop when her radiant beauty I see

For in it, I behold the darkest, ugliest sides of me

 

In horror, I watched the light fade away

I felt drained as my colors turned to gray

I boiled hot as I felt my blood evaporate

To be replaced by raging shame, guilt and self-hate

 

At first, I fought for the light, for my colors, for my blood, but I surrendered as I accepted the need

To fall into the chaotic darkness for vengeance against my deed

So now, before the dark and pain, punishment for my sin,

With arms and heart wide open, I welcome it in

 

Shame, let it burn as it causes physical pain to show my face

I thank God I cannot find in my own bed escape from the disgrace

Guilt, pull me down, stop me from achieving all I can

Let me never again be proud of who I am

Hate, in agonizing misery lead me slowly to death and drag me into hell

Whisper in my ear, “Her life is better without you” so no matter how hard I try to escape, in you I will always dwell

Shame, guilt and self-hate, keep me from love so cause pain I will no more

Keep me fighting for the light, for my colors, for my blood, but keep dragging me down so I can never win the war

 

I pray to God for salvation, but hope to burn in hell for how I hurt her so

As I fall further, I fall into greater comfort as I deserve the woe

My heart and breathing stop when her radiant beauty I see

For in it, I behold the darkest, ugliest sides of me

  • Author: JWKP98 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 12th, 2020 04:43
  • Category: Love
  • Views: 15
  • Users favorite of this poem: benevolentbluebabe
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Comments +

Comments1

  • benevolentbluebabe

    This is truly exceptionally written...

    • JWKP98

      Thank you! It was odd; it quickly came to me when I wasn\'t even thinking about poetry while working. I ran to the break room, grabbed a pen and piece of paper and it seemed to write itself, words just appeared on paper without me thinking hard about it.

      • benevolentbluebabe

        As so often happens with good writing—in no way forced or contrived; just honest, free : )



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