Filth of Flesh

I guess its here to stay;
I can’t wash this filth away.
I cannot seem to clean nor cleanse the monster of my soul within.
To ease the pain, to rid the hate in which my own opinion makes,
that innocence I couldn’t reach, that perfection I couldn’t keep;
for I the filthy whore, the hun, the fallen angel,
the unchosen one.
Left to die, decay and rot in this unholy mortal spot,
to stand and feel the filth of flesh where all my
horrors here come to rest,
I guess its here to stay?
I cannot wash this filth away!
I cannot seem to cleanse this evil burning deep within.
How can I purge and make this right,
am I to suffer day and night?
To feel the filth of flesh throughout and have my heart
scream in pain without?
Is this the wound I bear,
what have I done to divinity dear;
To face destruction a slow decay as my disgust wastes me away?
I guess its here to stay?
I cannot wash this filth away!
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