I Am My Own Enemy Poem by Lawrence s. Makola

My days are swifter like the weavers shuttle
I don’t have enough time to sin
To partake in the world activities
To loose my thoughts to the poisonous sin
That aims to bury me
And shorten the gulf between me and death

But to my own consternation
Each time I refuse
My eyes will drag me into it
And copy that I saw during to ensnare me
That which will destruct my meditation

My legs understand better
When I run after ladies
Than to bow down before God
No surprise they know the earthly language
Heavenly one no discernment

My body feels good for sex
My parts jumps at the mention
I become vulnerable and salacious
And forge ways to satisfy
By so doing paving a way
To the deadly sin