I trust in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
But the Love of God doesn't numb my lust, Maybe because I'm lost, Unable to clasp onto the notion of Him being enough, His plan is too robust and unfathomable to the young, Old soul but I know enough to not be called dumb, I know enough to know I know nothing, I know what I shouldn't like the ecstasy of busting a nut, Let me come humbly to my knees Lord almighty release me from my vices, Remove the price on my head, hard to look straight into the eyes of the holy when I'm still salty about the spices that burnt me. Shackled by juvenile mentalities, is my maturity just superficiality? I digress when the stress of excess living hangs heavy on my eyelids like the drooping folds on a poorly tailored dress. That is how I am, the unfinished article - published for all to see, but still under editing. That doesn't stop the scrutiny. See, He has a plan for me. I see those who terminated their subscription to organised religion after the three month trial that gave them guilt free confessions & celestial possessions. By New Year's Day they'll be making use of their warranty, apparently all they need is an apology. But surely, how much longer can one ask for concessions before He confirms the rejection? My dejection is self-inflicted. Even if he could tell I am conflicted, He cannot allow me to constantly misuse my influence. I tell myself I am still in the cocoon but maybe I just need pimping. Butterflies flourish in the warmth of the summer, under the sun provided zeal, I remember how His demise was so gory, may He baptised me in His blood oh Glory to thee. Lord I am Sorry. Zupe
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