Sickness and The Saviour


09 Jan, 2015 09:02 AM
The sickness is calling,
Asking for my hand,
I'm in a dark place so empty and bare.

I pray for a saviour,
Screaming at the top of my lungs,
I look around to find no one is there.

Sickness begins to beg me for my soul,
Tells me I have no control,
I find a gun and grab the bullet,
Pleading for someone to save my life.

Then a man comes and there's a flash of light,
For a moment I am blind,
All I hear are battle crys,
The fight is fierce but full of life.

Sickness dies,
The man smiles at me with all his might,
I take his hand and with a tight embrace,
We fly away to somewhere safe.
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