In excessiveness, I like to think i’ve won
because there is only one battle with urge
and sad satisfaction to continue
with debaucheries of the heart.
Hate is like an instrument of continuing
sorrow, the barrier that doesn’t break
unless recognized. So why is it so hard
to become recognized?
And once recognized, how easy is it
to break away? Love is like a villain
among the heart, but in the shadows
it prevails as the hero.
Are we losing the balance
on the platform of life,
or are these indulgences
the adversaries of our faith?