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Jun 2014
Our city is wicked
Or so I have been told
The air is thick with smoke and sin
The ground is covered in dust and disease
The people are vile and villainous
Our city is wicked
Or so we have been labelled
We are a nation defined by unrighteousness
We live to spite a God we don’t believe in
With each breath we curse morality
And choose to live a life parallel to what is right
We are the thieves
We are the murderers
We are those you shield your children from
We are the wicked
Or so we are thought to be
One look into our eyes can **** you
One night in our home can corrupt you
One drink of our wine can rot your soul
You have been warned
Stay away form the wicked city
Stay away from those who lie and cheat and steal
Stay away from the perverse dwellers of that place
Stay away
Stay away
For we are unclean
We are unrighteous
We are unholy
Unfit to be loved
Unable to be saved
Uncalled by God
Our city is wicked
Beyond reproach
Past the point of redemption
And far from salvation
We saw the line between right and wrong
And we crossed it
And we ran as far as we could
Because we are a wicked people
Or so you have made us out to be
And we were too far gone
Salvation no longer and option
We were a parasite
We were leprosy on the face of the earth
A deadly disease destined to **** all of humanity in slow decay of character
We were the wicked
Or so you tell yourselves
We deserved to burn
Just as we had burned your commandments
We deserved to die
Just as we had killed your children
We deserved to lose everything
Just as we had taken it from the poor
We were the wicked
And we deserved it.
We.
All of them, and me.
My city and I.
We deserved it.
Because we, all of us, even I, we were the wicked.

But somehow,
Somehow
I felt the flames on my back
As my city burned
As they received what we deserved
I heard their screams behind me
I felt my people dying
And I remembered the warnings
But wicked as it may have been,
I loved my city
And to break the rules one last time
Now that would be a beautiful tribute
To us
The Wicked.
And so I slowly turned for one last glance at my blackened home
And joined my people as we stormed the gates of hell.
Sin in our hair
Salt on our lips
And Sand in our souls
We, the wicked
We, the corrupted
We, the sinners
Too unworthy to be offered grace
Too black to be reconciled
Too evil to be forgiven
Forced into submission to the grave
And abandoned by God
Because we were wicked
Right?
Our names have faded away
But our legacy remains
In a pillar of salt
Next to a pile of ash
A sight you cannot un-see
And you can pretend to forget us,
Or tell your children that we deserved it
As you teach them of forgiveness
As you tell them of grace and mercy
Tell them how we deserved it
And hope they are blind to hypocrisy
But remember that pillar of salt
Remember our city
Remember who we are
And how we died
But most of all remember that you are one of us
And we are the wicked.
Genesis 19:23-26
Then the LORD rained burning sulfur on ***** and Gomorrah – from the LORD out of the heavens. Thus he overthrew those cities and the entire plain, destroying all those living in the cities – and also the vegetation of the land. But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.
Ariel Baptista
Written by
Ariel Baptista  Montreal, Quebec
(Montreal, Quebec)   
570
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