inherit

she comes on like a sickness-
no forgiveness for the wicked
(entombed and pointing fingers)

the sound of this declaration lost
in the onslaught
she waits and is weightless
the breath that she takes is
one in a million

a million excuses leave my lips
but don’t attest to
the absence of sin

(a total distortion of that
which i know to be true)

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