The scarlet letters burn thru my chest,
And leave me helpless to a bullet proof vest,
And yes,
Shame and guilt has rained upon my soul,
And thru my body.
I feel like Hester when she stood
In front of the crowd;
Shameful, and guilt.
My tears and pain I’ve
Knitted in a
Quilt;
To perfection for sinners, and the starters for
Beginners.
I have the whole alphabet across
My chest in stone.
I stand in pain by myself,
Alone;
While eyes consistently stare,
That leaves me to feel naked and bare,
With a big burn hole in my chest.
The smoke still flares the air,
So my wound is fresh.
Some people take a look at the scarlet letters,
And try to guess my sins,
But you can’t judge me, if you haven’t
Looked
Within.
The devil is laid back watching with a grin.
I’m falling deep in the dark,
Confident that God won’t let me in.
No not this time.
I can feel it.
I know,
He has given me many chances,
But the alphabets on my chest show,
The cruel and impurity of my heart.
I’ve bared pain from outsiders already.
I’m walking on the edge
Firm and
Steady,
Wishing everything will get better,
But the more stares I get,
The more burn and pain I retrieve that
Flows lightly like a feather from the bittersweet
Chest holes that remains from
The Scarlet Letters.

  

  

  
-Marci H.