Take me to the altar and do as you please.
Even on my knees
I can love you as the man I am.
If you alter my person plan to pay fees.
Blood lines down my back
each a token of luck.
The purpose of this poem
is ruckus and ****
but whenever I get close
I think of the people I've ******
up.
My past closes in faster
to the brim of sin.
I can't last as a pastor.
Casting my eyes while preaching some line.
It's culture's downfall as I bind and entwine.
We are powerless to escape our nature in kind.
Pray to a fate blurred
then unearth what we find.