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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Stubbed my toe Here I stand a little over two-thousand years later. The worlds are not the same, coming from the creator. One ritually set to hold fast, the other has forgotten the laws of the past. I look about entranced into the wonder of how this came to be. This is not what I thought it would be. I was born like any other man in the present, through a line of sin not hesitant. As I grew older, I became entangled in the worlds flesh. It started simple, just taking things that had other owners, what a mess My mother had no control over me; the honor was gone. And then it was not long, Before I would provoke false accusations against my neighbors; for the little possessions of his labor’s. His wife to start with and maybe his daughter two and any other lustful thing my eye catches All the way to the grave where he lay…… The flowers by the way. Soon thereafter my pride set in, my eyes began to see the lust there set to begin. I began to pay mind to the whisper’s in my ear, the words of all those jezebel’s, my dear. My head began to swell. There was not much left of that simple check list. I felt as if the holly spirit had been offended, I insist by my many doubtful words It was a twist of the wrist. I had been tempted again two thousand years later. I feel so much more like a traitor, In a world where children are holly and clean. I know that sounds mean, thank the sins of the forefathers For there’s have taken their own tole. It’s a place where I have stubbed my toe. And now I will reap what I sow. I have left my flesh free to roam All the pleasures of your life, This place you call home I have not the control my sins do hold. By Desi E. Sherman 9/19/2010
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