galjoen poetry

i come to worship god

that is all that brought me

dying heart wanting free

keeping up this facade

how i feel is most odd

this is how it will be

and we lock eyes once more

dreaming six years to one

i cut my soul – no gun

turn around to the door

and avoid this cold sore

.

what’s this my feet have spun

.

And while I pray right now

See him more thinking – how