Dear Conscience, 

You ask me what I feel in my heart 

Why my face looks sad 

Yet my eyes keep smiling back

You ask me why my words are full of remorse and disgust 

Yet my tongue, 

Only knows the luxury of milk and honey 

You ask me why my soul grows old

Yet I stand, so tall  and  bold 

Young, the blood is fresh 

You ask me why sometimes,

My eyes turn blind at your sight 

Yet in  truth I  can see further the where my future lies 

You ask me why I write in so much pain

But do you truly know what pain is 

Have you ever had that single hour in that sand glass feeling depressed and weak

Have you lost your soul,

I have, 

More than once 

And every time I get it back 

Torn apart, 

Have you ever stared death straight on his face, 

And found your mouth say 

I have no use for this body anymore,

You ask me why I keep writing, 

Well, 

Voice in the head, 

Conscience  I  beg, 

Look at this loop you’ve made 

For my life to be trapped in

And ask yourself one question 

What shall you gain, from my pain. 
Paulo.

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9 thoughts on “Dear Conscience, 

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