From the Dust

From this selfish state I will be broken, like a dropped plate.
my mind eludes me, I believe it's lies, running, trying to escape my demise.
stumbling, falling in the abyss, temporarily I trust in short lived bliss.
the trap i'm in, it's gross, it's filthy, it's known as sin.
I cannot fool myself any longer, this hypocritical life has never been wronger.
desperate i look to heaven, misplaced, I stick out like finger eleven.
this is the right mood, realizing i'll only be filled with spiritual food.
my utmost is for his highest, but my will will always be biased.