Childhood Scars

Fog from my breath,
suspense in the air
Will I meet my death?
deep in the devils layer

Hands trembling with fear
grasping a silver cross
wiping away foolish tears
just retribution from my loss

Stepping across the threshold
down a bath with no return
my final chapter being told
cast into the fire to burn

Sanctuary is quiet and vacant
I stand before mother Mary
her eyes passing judgement.
This sin I am willing to carry

Swinging open the office door
fear shadows the pastor's face
understanding what was in store,
from a child he used to embrace

A false prophet with a black soul
false prey for my home made knife
piercing his heart makes me whole
A sharpened cross ends his life.