Troubling Tuesday

my soul is in trouble,
as in the struggle,
I feel like life is hell,
wondering if I'm under a spell,
mixed in the witch's cauldron,
by the souls of the fallen,
my mind melts away like wax
on a candle, burning as the wick,
slowly dies by the flame subtracts
its life away, the devils sic
their wickedness on me like a blade
slowly cutting away, as I'm prayed
on by the hungry vulture,
whose life's very culture,
is to murder minds,
and keep us blind,
my very ears are deaf
to the words spoken from the breath
keeping me dreaming of death,
everything of gold I touch,
turns to nothing but rust,
as I get chocked out in the clutch
of the cobra's deadly lust,
whispering its sound,
as I hit the ground,
and my dreams are shattered,
becoming lost and scattered,
across the region,
in search of what I'm believin'
it's right in front of my eyes,
and spoken into my ear,
but the truth is covered by lies,
so nothing is ever clear,
and it becomes covert,
the shovels needed tp dig the dirt
are broken at the handle,
maybe I mishandle
everything, maybe I am serving,
this earth's king,
letting him lead
me to what I don't need,
I am nothing but a slave
to sorrows grave,
I need you to save
me,
from drowning in this sea
of a broken feeling
Lord, lay your healing
hand on my spirit,
so I am become coherent
to your gospel,
and life is never hostile.