Soul ran empty,
Dry,
Words stole plenty,
Why?
In my own strength
I relied,
No help, no ties.
No verses, no cry.
Comfortable being alive,
How?
When I know not when,
I’ll die.
Plenty lies.
Criticized,
Hypocritical,
Of me to tell sinners,
How to live their lives.
When before a mirror,
There stands a man,
That sin,
Has killed many times.
© Tway24k