BURNT FOR WORSHIP
In these days It seems that all that had been learnt Has been either forgotten Or unlearned to be relearnt But the basic things elude me Leaving me small and bare And my speech a ramble of thoughts. I know not if this should be But trusting in my heart Here I am, laid down Splattered out on the altar That somehow, you may be pleased As the smell of burning flesh reaches you This is me All of me My questions and fears My entrails arranged before you I live to worship you.