Shackles Of Sin

I never enjoyed church.

Whether it was my mother's intense use of control to forcefully bring about my attendance, or the lack of my belief in such faith, I don't know.

But as I grow alongside my discomfort with the unwelcoming undertones of the church I attend (against my will) each Sunday, so does the nature of my defiance.

She can silent my pleas, but she cannot trample on my ideas. She cannot stomp the embers of my growth with the underside of her foot, because I will find a way to spark up and burn her in return.

I will break free, with time.