Hate the sin
Love the sinner
A mistake is pushing on an old barn door as if you don’t know where hornets live
Painting your nails when you know you’re just gonna chip it off
Chasing down predators
A twisted kind of irony
Dreaming of a haircut and hating it the second you look in the mirror
The things that you fall for are the same things that **** you when you land
The crystal blue water looks like heaven from the top of the cliff
The closer you get the farther your stomach drops
Hate the sinner
Love the sin
You’ll never scrub yourself holy
Demons are born to look like saints for weary eyes
The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t
A roses thorn is worth the ***** of a finger
A drop of blood for her petals of crimson
You know you can’t stay here
You know how this poem ends