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Father,
Will you forgive the sins of where I began?
Some in which I still run.
Though accompanied by your holy deplore,
Will you forgive even the ones I have won
Others,
my sin to them has become a door.
My freedom has led others elsewhere not your throne,
My speech has stirred up  tornados,
Thoughts full of furrows,
Leading to dens of infidelity. 

Father,
Will you forgive the sins of now and before?
The moving of the earth has made me explore,
Built houses of sin and am used to live in them even more.
My garden field bears both haw and hem,
Mixed in a plateau of contamination,
A York be bound on my neck,
Cast away from your presence,
For I deserve the wages of my sin, death.
Shame and guilty are on their knees in proposal,
Joy packed her things and left.
Happiness saw the rings, she ain't coming back.
Couldn't handle this, I slept with my regrets,
Fear saw this, she moved in and always clinging to my back. 

Father,
Will you restore this weak soul?
Crushed by the consequences of sin,
Drooping hand, stiffed neck.
My legs have swollen, can't stand in wait.
How long should I wait?
My outer self is fading away,
How long till this pain is done away?
Maranatha! Maranatha!

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