There must be something more;
lillypads and ponds seen in past lives
Heaven once lived inside my home,
but the polluting of lungs that comes with us as we age--
invites purgatory.

Well, each time my father smokes there must be an entire  section of clouds reserved for him.
Desperate for faith,
I've been turning the key points from farewell letters into psalms.

There might not be much left,
when I'm writing my own version of the Bible in blood.