Original Sin

My sins are many,
but they are small,
insignificant in the masses.
Just vagrant shells
scattered on the oceans door.

Worn and tattered gems,
to be taken home
and cherished
by those who see beauty
on the inside,
hiding from god.

I don't crave avarice.
I yearn for something
to hold with both hands.
To guide my fate
and pull me back,
when I drift into darkness.

You won't find me wanting.
There is precious little
to covet in my life,
just a lone chip
of emerald green, that gleams,
wedged in my eye.

Waste not, want not.
There is no void inside
to fill with fare
and broken promises.
I can't have my cake
and eat it too.

Chastity becomes me,
but it doesn't suit you.
It has been too far stretched,
now a pair of old pants
that hang at your feet
and coax passion to crawl into bed.

No time to lose,
sitting still, wondering
about what if's
and dreaming of a world
that doesn't exist
to numb the agony inside.

Fear forgiveness,
that your fist strikes
at an open palm,
and the raging storm
consumes all,
leaving you hollow.

A deflated chest,
the medal of humility
pinned where nobody can see
it shines in the crowd
and reminds you all
of the price of vanity.

With the lord as my Sheppard
and his words as my judge,
I shall fear eternity
and pray to man
for the scraps of mercy,
cursing those corrupt eyes.

Justice will not prevail this time,
sometimes sin spreads too swiftly.
Crucified on a crumbling cross,
a sacrificial lamb,
to be condemned for the sins,
committed by yourselves.

Cry witch craft and heresy,
that the sky is falling.
Look to the grim horizon,
hear hooves sound in the distance,
see the brimstone below
and the devil playing
in the garden of man.