A call to treason

My mind it spilling, it is almost thrilling...

to believe that I am awake.

If it is all a guise, I am compromised,

and stuck in between the real and fake. 

My hands are sifting, while time is shifting.

Suddenly I am blinded by your noise.

If God is seeing, here is to believing...

that I could ever be guided by his voice.

Guided hand, and worked out plans.

Sometimes chaos it wall call,

like a voice of reason, or a call to treason, 

Reminding us to rise we must fall.

Break it enough, touch it where it's rough,

say it is pretty, and kiss the scars.

No if you are alive, that life is a lie!

Entire trials, only judged by stars!

Just burning gas of amazing mass...

will eclipse my every move I make.

Making fast of me, other things to see.

Here far before, and far after I will brake.

My mind it spilling, it is almost thrilling...

to believe that I am awake.

If it is all a guise, I am compromised,

and stuck in between the real and fake.

Reviews

[Rene Velez]

Well enjoyed, I wonder have you ever switched lines in your poems? Rearrange the order of your sentences, try it out, its fun, and can be surprisingly inventive.