I Slipped

Too soon the table turned, This comfort is swept away. and the blessings withered, I smart under the gall, my cloak is torn from me, harassed by owners of this earth, I am plunged into dirt just for a pry, and now I quip under the lash, snapped in the stock, my limb are cut away, lured through a whorish deceit. To vanities of a few days. this does not do for me, and now like a prodigal, I cease from this voyage. I would rather be in a cottage with like minds, in the company of Jesus, than be cloaked in this stocking horse of a mere phantom. I am a stranger here, His cross ever my rest and stay