You called me sin. A natural-born sin, you say. Something unchangeable, indomitable evil.
But its okay, you say, we are all born sinners. That, your lying tongue and your shaky hands wandering through the things that arent yours as well as your lustful eyes, and those guns you carry around that screams the bullets through the heads of the innocent, these things you made balance on one side of the weighing scale with the sin of loving the same.
You say things about nurture and nature. Its nature, you say, and never nurture, therefore you are born w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶i̶t̶ no born as it. Im not the sinner, i am the sin.