|by Isikol on devientart, boris tribute|
My flesh, my muscles and my bones,
I flex and lift my bronzing tones,
I once was skinny, dust and dirt,
Now I'm built, I hold the earth.
Nothing easy comes to me,
Grovel, work, I can not flee.
Words haunt, howl, from my past,
Blows in frozen, bred to last.
By my brow and pumping grit
I resolve, no more, I spit,
Cradle to my bed alone
Four walls free me from that home.
Choose I must now - how I live,
Running springs no longer give,
Dig my own well, for my thirst,
Raging feelings, out I curse.
Cut the strings that held me down
Dangling offers - sins abound.
Taste the apple from the tree,
Rotten to the core, I see.
Pleasures, crutches, hold me back,
Mirrors glaring, what I lack,
Smoke defuses, nothings clear,
But the song of panting deer.
Brawn and might can get me far,
Still I'm crawling on the floor.
Willed erect now, full of pride.
Satan lurled me, 'course, he lied.
My redeemer, sees my core,
I can't open, the king's door,
Mercy needed, costly grace,
Lift me from this miry place.
Cursed I thought to bend my knee,
Humiliated, made me plea -
Kept it silent - evermore,
No one knew what - I endured.
Twisted up my sense of self,
Felt like trash, I lost true health.
Left my hope, my heart steel cold,
Forge me, liquid, with blood coal.
Sanctify harm, done to him
Holy love, blood, covers sin.
Purify the death dried stains,
Light life fire, through his veins.
Out of evil -can come good
It's the story of "he could"
Yet, each must choose his own fate
To be written his-- eternal state.
Listen little 'core of me'
Even Atlas Bent His Knee!