Take from me this imperfect heart, and plant a new seed.
Tear it from its rancid cavity, where with hate it dwells.
Be swift if you please, for corruption breeds’ corruption.
And the cancer it has become begins to foul my soul.
Love and desire have given way to a much darker hell.
Little remains now of my former self,
For the poison of life and its foul ways, have taken their toll.
Now nothing, no not anything is the same.
J. Allen Wilson © 2002