A Price for Pentinence

Fridays are the days for me,
I so long for the night.
I often dream of things unseen,
so far I am from right.
How can I,
in hurtful ways,
bring to strangers pain.
I have to get it out some how,
if not my soul feels stained.
Stained from wicked evil thoughts,
that swim within my head.
Tis a curse I know Ive got,
a curse that must be fed.
With meat that comes from innocence,
the sweetness of the earth.
Deaths the price for penitence,
a price left not for worse.
You in not a way can hear,
how loud your soul does scream.
I however have this gift,

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poem by Ken Bennight
Added by Poetry Lover
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