You hide under my skin,
in my blood and in my ribs.
I seek you in purity of virtues,
in every falling curse of sin.

You hide in my words
and in between my lines.
I seek you in numbness of death,
in lively smile of a child.

You hide in the walls of my heart,
coated by sweet convincing lies.
I seek you in crying peace and
in laughing chaos of my mind.

You hide in the songs,
in lullabies of memories.
I seek you in stories of scars,
and in my bleeding poetries.

You hide in me,
you hide in my rusty soul.
I seek you in statues of heaven,
statues made up of gold.