3 and a half months without any beer drinking,
A sober mind been built for deeper thinking.
Why can't I seem to get my life together?
Barely ill or ever feeling under the weather.
2 steps forward but only 1 step back,
Spirits are real and you can't handle that.
People will start shedding once you awaken,
Sometimes feeling like I've been forsaken.
Spot the bumbling and distracting automatron,
Trapped in the matrix by the cube of Metatron.
I pray but should get on my knees more often.
What happened to being nice to one another?
Demons are here and Judas Bond is undercover.
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: December 31st, 2025 04:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
I never knew James Bond had a brother! lol.
Hahaha!
Shaun, this is a confession wrapped in warning. You move between discipline, belief, paranoia, and prayer without smoothing the edges, and that rawness feels intentional. It reads like someone standing mid-reckoning, refusing to look away. Strong, unsettled work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Much appreciated.
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