Wash Away

[contention]

This is a smaller poem of mine that I wrote about recent feelings I have taken forth. Some may only understand if they were to read my MSN Space. In it, I won't debate it here, I debated that religon can sometimes lead to the anger of people, and that in my personal opinion dislike how some take it. So this poem is my feelings, of how I wish to be washed of religon and believe in what I feel is right, not what everyone else says is right. Also tried a new style here going (abab cdcd eeff gghh iijj kkll mmnn opop qrqr)

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Wash away my dreary eyes,
For I have found no mirror;
To sit and stare, like fruitless flies,
As sanity grows dearer.

Bathe these twisted broken hands,
So they may feel remorse;
Must they sprout with rusted hinge,
Or ache to meet their source?

Soak these shattered ligaments a few,
And with my rags, I’ll make a skew;
To scrape the blood away from scar,
That lifelessly grows so far.

Run the water over thy pore,
So I may rest in it some more;
Pleasure to run against the bend,
And start the road, all over again.

Clasp that vase upon this figure,
So that my filth will rightly render
Unto the clause that Nesses said,
Boiled blood won’t cover thy head.

Nor shall sand scar thy feet
When lavender petals bless my seat,
And neither flame bite thy tail,
When liberty doth strike her bell.

Gone away, all church mans grime,
When sponge has dried thy chapel.
To burn and flicker from their crime,
When Eve had bit no apple.

Fume away this dreary nose,
To rid of this my Mars.
God’s accepted have been chose,
Yet, such would differ the stars.