For I Have Sinned
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Forgive me father. For I know not of what I’ve done. The chalice from a goat’s horn forged in fire, does not adhere to the things of clay. To oversee and administer all the tests you task, done so without as much as a blink is easy.
To bow down to these abominations that I helped create, I could never do. Spare me the details of pride. When a pagan asks to praise the very follicles engineered on the prince’s throne, who wouldn’t take offence?
Forgive me for corrupting the seed on your precious lawn, that you’ll one day mow down...Again. Forgive me for looking into the sky and seeing this as a prison, oppose to a paradise.
Doth thou hate a lion for tearing apart flesh, when that’s what it was created to do? If a tree bares fruit…Tis’ a feast.
Copyright © Mr Pickles | Year Posted 2022
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