The damned wait for another day

to bleed all their cares away

we use hope like a light to brighten our path

but the only aftermath is frustration

we rise with the morning sun

ink our phrases on to paper

or write them on peoples Facebook walls

with our psycho babbling scrawl

we wait for the day we feel good

we should seize it all

the bad days and good if only we could

accept life’s miracles and teaching

I could be preaching

to the damned

but all I am

is a soul

burning out of control

like a seraphim

an angel watching in the dark

my soul giving off its divine spark.