Twisted Thought

My sweet mother was raw,
dear she said I wasn’t was she saw.

She told me over again to go
be a man of honor but not bold.

Sweet mother earth receive me,
for twisted devices men deceiving.

My sweet mother said son come
as we all fall to bed under the sun.

Mother hear me call raw desolate,
blind asking for the past forget.

My mother she told me to go
but not to seek to be so bold.

She said wisdom is patience
but that the Devil waits the ages.

Idle hands and such little things
she taught me to keep sustained.

My mother’s a bold one herself.
Told over again stories of health.

Twisted is the soul inside me
for the soul she wrought I see.

What am I to do but my best
to be at calm and to be at rest?

My mother I love issues
that bring out the tissues.

Emotion pours like her fire
and gone am I now full of ire.

Forgotten not I tell stories so
people can sweetly come and go.

I’ve been to the depths I know
of trenches beneath bitter snow.

What my mother she loved is
here but near is my destiny a quiz.

Trouble has beaten down paths
and the sun has had its wrath.

I shall devour my wolfen rebel
self and be beyond help I can tell.

What am I to do but trust God
or some kind of truth I find odd?

Directed fleet I feed off the meat
of the love I learned to stave defeat.

I need help dear Father God.
For this earths twisted thought.

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