Any Given Sunday
Alast i'm serenaded in angelic conversations.
Nurturing my spirit man to live again
Youth is lost,ill minded
Guidance shall find its time when
Intellects are reminded of times of failures.
Vices more familiar enticed when
Evil is speaking with solid reason
Never mind if i die along the weekday
Sunday mornings sure to save her savior or savor.
Unless thee only savior is the one you
Naturally run to for your favors.
Daily didactics in hopes of saving the blinder man.
A trophy of something more effective.
Youthful than thee average diadem.
See this imaginary line of political poetic prison
i'm a constantly acoustically
Crossing or break to paint the picture of a Saint,
And Mormons weekdays in performance.
Acted out of a carnal mindset upon later realizing he or she
Has church in the morning.
This is just the behavior of any given Sunday.
This poem is just a remnant a small fraction
of my collected observations.
That shall maybe be finished at a latter date or
day when the saints
Finally find their time to be alive
or dare I say that time to be of Christ
Maybe Saturday,get it?
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