Scribbling

Scribbling:
“A raped existence
Holding onto threads of torn fabrics of trust
Something to slit the overwhelmed veins with
For only blood could quench the thirst
Of an ignorant god, whose unquestionable morale
Forbids one to find solace along the walls of its temples
Where echoes the laws of manipulated ethics
And chorus of never ending chant of
Guilty conscience…”