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by Vic Jan 3, 2007 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
The crimes I commit, Though salaciously delicious, Bother my heart, My soul, my conscience. Thought I know the wrong, I continue the deed. My intelligence I ignore, My desire instead I feed. Can't help but think The past's occurrences, Funny how wildly My demon dances. "God makes me squirm" Isn't good enough an excuse. I sin on my own accord, Thought I know it abuses. Surprised I am, greatly, That I'm still tolerated. It pains me to know She's not rightly appreciated. What to do with myself, I must learn self-control. To uphold the left dignity in both of our souls. For her, I must change, No matter the cost; To make her happy, This habit must be tossed. Yet no matter how hard I force a new light, My desire overpowers me, I'm crushed under it's might. My love is being clouded By this thing called lust. I must show her my love, To not lose her trust. It breaks my heart Thinking of the wrongs I've done. Though she doesn't stop me, I know it turns her numb. It breaks her heart When I'm a "bad boy" It makes her feel low, Like just one of my toys. This lust I must lose, This conscience be cleaned. I must do it quick Before her patience runs out on me...