Once again, our swords clash,
creating new wounds
[and reopening old ones].
Guilt runs freely,
rivulets of deep crimson
leading to resevoirs of self-accusation.
A war is raging within my members
[The casualty list is long].
Selfish desires clench
pure intentions in a stranglehold.
I have seen this death-match before,
and I abhor the inevitable outcome.
Any ground gained
[so precious the cost!]
will soon be relinquished
to self-deception and rationalization.
An unpardonable policy of containment,
set on repeat within my deviant heart.
In my flesh dwells no good thing,
yet this battle is far from over.
There is One who can deliver me
from this prison of Sin and Death.
I have only to accept
His outstretched
[nail-scarred]
hand.
Silver trophy winner
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