I Hate My Self

…Should I write the truth that gives pain? Or vice for enjoyment, helpful for drain Time is precious, furious and unbeatable Holy words when hit on heart, unbelievable They preach only without practice, showy They are, angelic look with attitude ghostly, Time has come; you yourself have to act as Messiah Be ready to be engulfed by open terrific jaw Candle is burning giving light, we are seeing How long one can burn their heart with blind eyes? Mind that plays, intellect that slays; we are bleeding Where is wisdom in a Pandora box! Tell me o wise? Shoot me at my belly; bullet shouldn’t stuck must kill Otherwise through intestine it will find the way to spill What is the use to read, making a rosary with bead! Money matters, only money to lead; poverty to plead What humanity! Neck is hard pressed under the foot Stitched lips! Eyes closed! Whisper of verse! religions loot Let us try to wrap everything, enough we heard Fly high and high above the earth, to be a holy bird