Confession


a soul in peril
tainted from sin's dark shadow
no respite from the crushing weight
of deeds, bad, hurtful deeds.

one starts out small
fibs, little deceits
comical not menacing
like a pelting of cotton balls.

the next step
to steal,
a piece of jewelry, a heart
dull tokens of illicit labor.
as sin grows
the discomfort weighs
but the conscience
once pricking, smarting, now numb.

later, come greater sins
with more deprecating impact
the mind, breathless, shaky
so numb, yet giddily harming the whole

but sins grow heavier
to bear, to take
from one day and to the next
but with confession,
the soul shakes its shackles, yet only to smart again.

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