Written while I was supposed to be meditating
How do I dare to lay this charred heart, grey with passion's ash, at Your holy feet?
And how can I not?
O, Blissful Mother,
I don't need your bliss.
I need a steady mind, a clean heart, cooler blood.
My thoughts, my thoughts are red and black, blazing with wicked desires and soot-covered memories I'm ashamed for you to see,
But I must place this wicked mind, this grey heart before you because, Ma, I want so much to give them up,
And because (help me, Mother) I want so badly to keep them.
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