I Am The Vessel, You Are My Spirit

Is it the gentle soul that gets
angry at the little sins
maybe if they see
The distortion of reality
heavy heart for the broken ones
even if the spirit exits
Vexed from when it first became
easily slips into dark corners
senses things won’t be the same
still waters gather between
empty spaces from tortured places
less is more or less what it seems
You fell out of their good graces
only perpetual proverbial panic
understood that the soulless ran it
Angry men with ash on their suits
rotten men with angry sins
elevated to make you smaller
Masters of the scheduled end
you can overcome i swear it
Silent prayer that you can bear it
pairs like us can stay the gust
in destiny we truly trust
run quickly now and crest the corners
in those places hide the mourners
treading through the thickest thorns

Poem is mine. Image is not.

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