Revelations 7:06-14A Poem by Taylor St. OngeAngsty family drabbles.There’s a crystal ball that sits on my dresser that I never fully learned how to use. There’s a pack of Tarot cards that reside beneath my pillow that I use to play solitaire with. I have never known what it means to “Be like Jesus.” I find the numbers 13 and 18 to be rather unlucky, which is probably why I branded one onto me externally and the other internally. I wonder if my grandmother now knows the secrets of the world, if my battle-eyed grandfather knows the key to redemption. I wonder if my sister ever learned how to control the talking skulls in her closet. I wonder what my Pastor would say about my fear of Purgatory. Three days three weeks three years five years later and I am still waiting for Absolution. © 2014 Taylor St. OngeAuthor's Note
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