Condemnation
The priest sat behind a mahogany desk,
his life in ruins, his life a mess,
he was once faithful to God,
and that faith took years to build,
but then certain feelings of guilt
ate at his insides,
his emotions rushing in like the tides,
now standing face to face
with frustration and condemnation,
he was such a disgrace,
and he lost all concentration,
as the answers to his questions were lies,
he’d wish his past just dies,
then he tried to justify, rationalize, compromise,
but what he did just defies!
Christ chose twelve apostles, not one,
He turned his back to God, now he’s done,
he felt that in forgiveness, there would be none,
his eyes fell,
gun fired,
as far as he could tell,
he just entered the gates to Hell.
Copyright © Frank F. Atanacio | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment