Cataracts Treatment

Truth flies like a vulture
On the wing for carrion
Circling my rotting conscience
The stench of death fills the air
Sharp beaks peck at it’s eye
But the eyes were blinded long ago
By cataracts of false morals
Seeing my soul half dead
Burdened by twisting lies
Brought to my knees on the hot plains of Hell
I offer my first plea
Praying for a drop of water
Knowing none is meant for me
My swollen tongue closes
My mouth full of lies
And them my body catches up
With my soul that died
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