I only say it once,
To get it out of my system
Then the pastor tells me my sins-
On his fingers, he lists them
But he doesn't know that I-
I call to them by name-
I study them like models
Posing for pictures I'll never paint
I turn them over in my mind
Till I've memorized every angle
'What a hideous painting,' I think
But it is only the truth:
Twisted into knots, mangled
—
A/N- part of a much longer one I wrote but don't feel quite happy with yet, so here's my favorite few stanzas!
