Forever shall I burn in purgatory.
The winds shall blow the dusty remains of my bones.
As my names in bold be etched on the coner stone.
Five spired pillars lay ontop of my motionless self.
A center piece at the national museum will it lay.
May the blood in me boil and catalise the suffering.
The thought of water melt my cells like acid.
Their grief ignite like a flayer all over my vains.
For a sinner I was hoping to lay mine eyes on the bright light.
For every word uttered dry my mouth than the sahara.
Rejoice my enemy they shall as they fuel the fire.
And to tire I shall not for repentance will soothe mines pain.
Forgiving is He who suffered to make me whole.
For by his trials I find more than just peace.
Sir. George Githunguri
© Jun 2015