My quilt runs deep and my conscience is stone, my panic is burning all the way to the bone.
Fighting the battle and trying to survive, it’s becoming a challenge just staying alive.
My conscience is torn with memories of sin, it’s my inner battle I know I can’t win.
As I run from my past as fast as I can, I now fight my battles with paper and pen.
Life has been hard but I never confess, the things I have done to make such a mess.
I can’t turn back time and make it alright, it’s a moral dilemma I continue to fight.
I will pass through this world with a stain on my soul, they lower my body down into a hole.
I’m quickly forgotten and will never be missed, I’m waiting for Satan to blow me a kiss.
I see a dark shadow with a fork and a bell, he says I’ve been waiting, so welcome to hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem