Last one to save

The passions that burn less brightly, while the seasons, they turn ever more tightly

The months melt into decades borne, and less and less do I feel myself torn-

I’ve heard that a man feels his grief stronger as his end nears

But I find the weight of my sins lessen, through these redeeming years.

Honestly, though, Hell has always been the least of my fears.

 

Forgiveness- that weighs hard on my soul, blameless, for that endless toll

Not for me, that burden, I self-impose, as I attempt to lift others, despite the life they chose

Hate is a lovely gift, as is purifying pain

Anger is a joy from which it is hard to refrain

The only way to break free is to remove this stain

 

Love, so cursed, so damned by my own voice, as In my own shame I did laughingly rejoice

And spinning here, digging this grave, I am the last person I’d ever want to save