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.