Confession Sundays

Sometimes, a thousand good wishes..

Are ruined by,  just the one thing..

One step, one word, said wrong..

And prayers are like
Water falls on rocks..

In empty barren lands..

Forgive me Father for I  have sinned..

Decades in passing, in blink of eyes..

Not sure when, I last sat in the booth..
To announce my confessions

And my face shall not be shown..

For the priest will be scarred by it..

And the priest shall need counselling there after..

And the counsellors will retire with exhaustion..

Yet word for word, me to you..

To the average man compared..

I am in with the better half of goodness..

A few good men left..

Compromises and boundaries, principals..

To be moved to make up for the numbers..

And on Sundays..

I leave my daily custom of Caesar's..

To be worn after, I have given to God..

Bless me Father for I have sin..

And sin awaits me like Bonny awaits Clyde..

Gluttony, Pride, Envy, Sloth, Lust 
Wrapped around Wrath to end with Greed


But I am in with 
The better half of goodness..

A few good men left, I am..