Sunday's Confession

On this sacred day, lust's fire consumes my soul, Erotic whispers echo—my spirit loses control. The battle brews deep within this fractured heart, Flesh and faith at war, always worlds apart. I wrestle with demons I struggle to name, Kneeling in prayer, drenched in guilt and shame. My righteous mask—paper-thin, fragile, worn, Secrets choke me, leaving my conscience torn. Seduced by desire, entangled in sin's embrace, I fell from grace, lost in a darkened place. Chasing pleasure, I silenced my soul’s cry, Mocked by the world as purity passed me by. Imprisoned in cycles crafted by my own hand, Shrouded in filth, too weary to stand. Sin's claws etch scars across my stained skin, Church bells toll judgment—I’m left caged within. In shadows I screamed, cloaked in silent blame, A flaw exposed, no one else to name. Will grace still reach me in this midnight hour? Desire holds the key—not the jailer with power.