When I was a child,
I learned quite young
That most of our actions
are what the above
call "sins"
(direct orders from the Lord).

Young at 22
I learn how to fly.
Escape my reality
(and deem the needle worthy),
I brace for the rush-

but then

my mind stutters, my heart flutters.
I see my father cry

-Nothing could've taken away that high.

And grown at 31
I lie in this bed
and look at the woman
whose head
rests naked on my pillow.
Do I pack up and leave?
Should I wash my hands clean?

But again I fall to temptations,
succumb to sensations,
that shake their beliefs free from my core.

Ma and Pa spit words
of hell and sin
but my oh my,
and much to their chagrin,
my sins make me happier than I've ever been.