Like a broken crayon i still color

I'm broke

i pour my heart to you

I end up broken

numb, dumb,

dumped like trash

I have gone astray

lost my way

lost my priorities

tumbling like the economy.

Parading them like rallies

Every day is a battle

It takes so much

Photo by Caleb Shong on Unsplash

My spirit is willing

My flesh is weak

My faith is winning

My self control cant speak

Its always darkest before dawn

Why do i keep beating myself down,

until there's nothing left

hoping for that shred of happiness

I know its wrong

But it feels so nice

Cheap thrills

Temporary feels

groping in a dark pit

Drowning in guilt

What colour is the soul,

of a dying man?

I wonder what God felt,

when he saw

his son die

due to a flaw in his own system.