THE PRODIGAL SON

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Can you call it love that which mercilessly binds
That which breaks spirit with every effort to disentangle the thorny vines
You who eternally rest, you bred ne in lies!
Forgive me. Rather I mistaken for love what God considers vile

"But how could this be, it felt so pure!"
Among saints the devil makes himself demure
"Thinking about her I lose all sense of time"
Precious seconds that go by as purpose so quickly declines!

Oh heavenly father, I have failed you in everything
Yet in indiscipline and lust do I succeed
I beg that you avert your holy eyes from the shame that I bring
I cannot atone, but I can be absolved and freed

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