I'm not really that into me,
I just feel the necessity to recipe some words,
Unimpressively,
That the best of me suppressed in me,
So long it almost became the death,
Of me.

Though I'm constantly questioning,
On the day of my reckoning,
If I'll feel regret beckoning,
Or guilt from my hide-and-jeckling,
And the angry words that I fling,
At those I love undeserving,
Sometimes the thought is unnerving.

As I sit in this cage feeling my brain swerving,
God I hope at least I'm learning.

This inner reflection is a frequent occurrence,
When I'm locked in a cell there is no way to defer this.

If I heard this, coming from my own lips,
"I deserve this," let down my pride and from the outside,
Observe this,
Change my actions and fight my ego to deter this?

If I could line up my faults like enemy soldiers,
Squeeze the trigger-- Blood Mist,
But searching out the source of my own evils,
is Endless,
So give it to God 'cause with self alone,
I always transgress,
Asking for forgiveness and being thankful that,
I am Blessed

An Original Poem by Jonathan Caleb Williams

image from www.fineartamerica.com