Sin Prose
Brief dreams of grandeur and importance,
Fade with reality's slightest wind;
Indecision and laziness bind my will,
While voices of failure and wrong haunt every decision.
Doubt, fear, ineptness, inferiority, set upon me like a plague;
Imaginary scenarios play out in my mind, producing anger;
Fear of what men can do and have done, I struggle against;
Revenge and hatred knock often on my door.
Then I notice the crimson blood forming a puddle at my feet;
I look up to see a grisly scene---an execution;
Primitive and gory, a slow painful death;
I was one of those chosen; the fine for my crime has been paid in full.
Bought off the slave block, released from death row;
A murderer and criminal set free---a just Man killed in my place;
Yet a second look recognizes not a man, but God Himself;
It's not fair; I deserve to die, not Him.
(written/created by Jeff)
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