Cut The Wick

looking back at all the pieces
shattered bits and torn ligaments

falling from a dull star
its faded glow rains a grey soot

chapped lips that burn
bleeds to bites that come down hard

the constant pain inflicted
all in the act of contrition

wrongs do right, in minds eye
believes to suffer, a penitent cry

prayers to end a wretched life
pray to dreams of one without strife

jack- be nimble, god be quick
give me peace, cut the wick