These words keep escaping with the void I find myself, so I breathe…
Whether slowly or fast paced, these itching ears begin to writhe;
Far from home, but no spidey senses,
It’s strange, but the doctor isn’t me;
I’ve sinned a lot like Constantine, even hell isn’t sure anymore.
Tell this to the devil,
“Hell boy is home”
There isn’t any fear in death,
‘Cause I am –Dead to sin.
You may cease my breath,
Make my world a dreadful scene,
Try…to nail me to the earth.
He’ll call it De’javu,
‘Cause ere, now it’s been seen,
By the One who forever is… My creator;
I need no Adobe to learn his illustrations,
His ways are pure; inarguably the Peak of purity,
He’s not Corel, but the best is what he draws…
I could go on and on to fan this Inventor,
Yet my processor wouldn’t do to analyze his every bit.
Did I tell you?
I’m a flame, He’s the air with which I thrive;
Take me far from Home –His presence,
And I’ll be a Walking dead!
He is my very existence;
The Breath to My Flame.
Written by yours truly.
Inspired by Ekueme Daniel