He was begging they lie asking for pity.

They kept preaching forgiveness.

All conclusions provided crystal clarity

That I wasn’t God. I was only human.

I didn’t not have that kind mercy

Nor that kind of compassion for grieving

My death while I was alive.

Somethings aren’t redeemable on earthly laws.

That was something he would have to ask God

But asking God meant asking for the truth.

He wasn’t ready to admit his own sin.

The guilt and shame he tried to give his victims.

As if just crazy lunatics telling fibs.

This was the reality of my truth.

All broken. All shattered pieces.

All parts of me I hated the most.

Published by Ms. Selective

Traveling Gypse with a Heartfelt Spirit.

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