You sit upon your judgment throne, then glare in awe to be alone.
With loving hands you clench the the stone to crush the skull of the unsuspecting clone.  But you don't know.

You remember to aim when your both alone.  Crying justification as you gnaw at bones.  For a fleeting moment, you realize and revel.

Your saving grace?  His book you quote.  You crave the taste.  It coats your throat.  Forgiveness, that's your cruelest joke.  But you don't know.

How does it feel to lay sin aside; for convenience sake, to let it slide?  Only when it's you to hide.  Blessed by God and never-ending bride.  But you don't know.

Propane oozes to fuel the heat and warm the frostbite of your feet.  You leave your door wide open.  Still you cheat.  Victim or villain?  The two compete.  (Born elite?).  You don't know.

Far too late to eradicate.  Just cover your spoils with heated debate.  Cringe while you shoot what you procreate.  Not dead.  Just wounded.  That's their fate.  Why don't you know?

Convinced that you bestow no hate; that you're stuck and just can't catch a break.  Ungrateful for the thing you take.  Entitlement hid by charity fake.  As long as it makes both parties feel great.  Oblivious it's both souls at stake.  *You'll someday know.