Treasure Island

Hasan Haskovic

(30.12.1997 / Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina)

No Savior

Reasoned beyond clarity
Yet self-explained
In stalwart yet failed attempts
Beneath bones decayed
In the stars downed
By my wishes heavy
Split unto broad-fields and ravaged skies
Below clouds blackened with malice
In earshot of where time flies
Never to return, lies the answer

This prison, torment and languish
Yet inside there's greater warmth
A place too lonely for discern
Too enigmatic for worries of the common man
But oh, how I longed for self-discovery
Oh, how I longed to feel the rain

The whispers of The Savior
Barbs to heart, thorns to mind
Deathly reminiscent of the flavor
Of dried blood and drained wishes
And I'll stand there, waiting to be found
Not daring the feel the weight of open skies
Without a chest to rest my head

The breath of the wind, far too cold
For my calloused, burned skin
The resounding of trials, of burden
And air far too dense for a last breath
Debilitate my yearn for revelation
And I doubt this lack of resolve
Will guide me far enough to know
To know why is self-discovery such a sin
And to know His reasons

Even though my cell bars lie broken
Broken on the ground
And even though he instructs me
To hear the sound
The sound of Old Gods

All that I broke
It was just a trial
Just another detested cell
To imprison, to make me wish for freedom
Unnecessary, meaningless
For a conscience too idle for deceits
And a mind too heavy with burden
Greater a weight than The Saviors wings
Drowned in the blood of his sundered flesh
Marks what I am to represent

Submitted: Saturday, November 16, 2013
Edited: Thursday, January 30, 2014
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