Says the ChurchA Poem by BeckyEverything can be fixed--for a price.Black rain hisses down Grays your white purity So you’re a sinner. Penance must be done (Or money paid) Says the Church. Guilty by default Associations condemn Because the sins of the father Stain your shield. There’s no hope left Says the Church. (There might be something--for a price.) Your soul is damned Because you dared to dream But we’ll burn it out of you (For a small price). And dreams will be forgiven And forgotten Says the Church. And then your ashes can make you a saint--for a price, of course. © 2013 BeckyReviews
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