The demon inside me comes over my will,
He hides good and beauty from my tempted eye,
In the soil of my my soul he plant's seeds of ill,
Which fast and untouched can deluge my sky...
How fast this small seeds do stand up and breed,
Filling my mind with wrongful "I must",
Tempting my heart to say that it's " sweet",
Poisons my soul till I'm willing to "trust"!
And now to protect my well-tempted soil
From poisons that take on this fulfilling mask,
I'm praying the Winner and toil
So when demon visits I'm stronger to ask:
" How will you litter my God-kinged soil?"
He is your beater, I asked him to foil
Your baneful attacks on my fresh bloomy land,
Now He has shown me that you're not a friend!
***
© Copyright: Михаил Фризен, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122021804609
Свидетельство о публикации №122021804609
Рецензии