Deliver Me

How sweet the sound of broken hallelujah, how strong the howl of man…

this weary soul is not worth saving, but I do the best I can…

I hate my wrinkles, my skin and bones, I hate my weary face,
It’s always staring back at me, it whispers sweet disgrace…

how soft the breath of sweet temptation, how shallow is the grave
How quickly we expect salvation, though we haven’t earned the save

I’m a hurricane, a wrecking ball a monster in my skin
A demon with a halo, a punchbowl spiked with gin

Doubt me all you want I’m only who I am…

Testify against me, I might just take a stand.

I can’t predict the future, nor make it go away…
I can’t control tomorrow, so I’ll focus on today


One Response to “Deliver Me”

  1. Dre Says:

    This is such a beautiful poem, Marcus.

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