Hauntings Of My Soul
This body is but a tomb in which the spirit is captive,
by Lydia Halena Basham
A temple for false worship and vanity:
The flesh reeks with the scent of sin;
Caressed by passions of lust.
If flows with rain of reddened tears;
Which stains of violent touch.
The eyes are the doorway-
The key has locked and lost.
These are the hauntings of my soul,
The wretched nightmares in my mind.
This containment lay marked and tarnished,
The very grave for which I am;
Buried inside this hollow emptiness
In which to ache and waste and plea.
Eternity's timeless clock will tell,
The torments of this living Hell.