Curator

I am a Curator,
I am slowly etching away at these wings,
Destroying them,
Stabbing away the pain,
from all that is trapping me,
from all that is slowly bringing me down,
I am ruining what was so ugly,
Painting it White,
Painting what was so pale, into gold,
Making it glow at night

Its like I am behind bars,
I have been forced to live over again what killed me,
This time I do it myself,
I feel like im attached to ideas and ideology that is so tragic,
How can faith be the only thing that kept me alive?
Yet I don’t care anymore.
What is life anymore?
For what reason do I lay here,
Gouging out my mouth,
Like snakes don’t fly out of it,
I’ve become dirty, angry, fiery
I do not care anymore.
I hate life, with a passion.

I want to be beautiful again,
Take me up My Lord.

For Gods sake,
take me up.

Let me grow into what im supposed to be,
make me beautiful again,
let the brown skin hit the earth once again
Make it rain upon this skin,
and let me drown in my own tears,
It seems only an eternity ago,
I drowned.