All I Know is What I Believe
When I consider my life so twisted.
Comfort comes in dreams of splinter, thrumming.
Havens goals I see, unreached, listed.
Oh, not the follies of poets strumming.
Vain whispers turn our manly heads so well.
Birds of war fly the devil's shifting wind.
Who decides such. The twisted wicks of hell?
Financing, dispensations for our sins?
Forbid it Mighty God, our ship flounders.
Demons in shadows lurking close.
Demons in shadows lurking close.
What sea takes no tolls, what war no plunders.
What soul will not be, god-driven form it's host.
We the living, wonder.
We the dead believe the most.
Yours, not dead yet...L.F. DAVIS
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