He calls me a sinner
The words dripping mirth
From the same mouth that speaks
in tongues on Sundays before dinner
The same hands he folds
In prayer
Over the good Lords blessings
Runs my up thighs
To spread my legs
For one last
Final feast
Of sexual desire
Then leaves me before the service
Where he pretends to be saved
From the sinner who caused
His eternal fall from grace
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