why my Mind screams

it is unknown to me;

or the Poet whose pencil—

a vessel

my faith lost(Faith)

the Heat on my body;

the Heat of broken Shame—

an inferno i am,

oh: the Darkness of the Wraiths

why my Mind bleeds

it is unknown to me;

His pencil, righteous—

my fingers divide us. 

my fingers write symphonies of false gods—

a facade; 

a ruse that my bleeding Mind cannot look beyond.

as i write these words,

i hear,

i feel—

He listens. 

He is here.

He whispers. 

i question;

He delivers. 

am i the boy or the Poet?

why my mind bleeds—

He knows it.

the pencil i hold—His pencil[righteous in nature];

my fingers a corruption;

His Mind, a transduction:

for He knows my broken faith

thus He knows my Mind’s state.

and yet;

He has trust—

He has Faith:

His pencil[a vessel]

the pencil; 

the Poet—

the Boy:

their Faith.

bestow It.