[Torn Signs]

The heartache emits its entire torso over my soul,
No chance of freeing myself from the vile burden,
I look upon the light for my resources,
The chances of returning to normalcy gone under the faded lights that stroll evenly with the days and nights,
I cry tears for hope from heaven,
I cut flesh for confusion, I need heaven,
I screech for help from heaven,
My body quavers from the thunders of the pains and excrutiation in the world.
So many souls suffer from the same viral disease,
It takes over their mind and never lets them be at ease,
For it is the vile burden that takes over my entire torso,
Never letting one cease from it's control,
It wants me in it's grasp,
To be it's servant,
To use me,
But when I cry tears for hope from heaven,
When I cut flesh from confusion when I need heaven,
When I screech for help from heaven,
I won't fall in it's vile palms,
The light is the resource,
The belief in the pure entity the helper,
My soul is not to be taken over by anything,
But the Holy Ghost itself.