Relapse

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As murder is foul, and blood is my fuel, 

I slash into pieces, when I was played for a fool.

As I’m thirsty for red, the anger and power. 

And I hear the grandfather clock, announcing the twelfth hour. 

I stretch for redemption; but just out of reach. 

And I fall back into isolation; back into peace. 

So used to the fallen, used to losing time. 

I remember a day, when I called this world mine. 

Back when salvation was closer than kin;

And I had no use for knifes, only my bible and Him. 

But now Lucifer has my ankle in grasp. 

Pulling me down, to the fear and relapse. 

And now for a moment of wisdomWhere stories live. Discover now