The Shadow of Guilt

Oh my dear God. I know I am guilty of such black sin

My soul is racked with grief at the very core of my being

I feel it dancing like nails on my wicked conscience

I stand here, silent. Knowing not if my accuser knows my face

I hear them coming...Pitchforks in hand. Metaphors they may be

But their words stab at my heart, rendering me cold and dead inside

They are judge, jury and executioner...the hangman's noose awaits

May this serve as my confession, written only to God and the angels

Oh, God. I hear them drawing nearer, so much closer now. Doomed

I close my eyes and pray. Give me one more chance, I will be good

I promise on my mother's grave and a stack of Bibles which I will buy

I feel the gush of wind as they run by me, I open my eyes...and lo!

They all rush past, pitchforks high and torches illuminating the night

Freedom...spared. I forget my promise. Dabbling in sin once more.