Sinners

Clever people,

Store so much,

In their heads; all

The time.


They have no room,

For emptiness and,

Truth; yet they go,

On searching for the truth.


I have come to you,

Naked,

As a wilful,

Sinner.


The saints think,

They are safe,

Dream,

Of heaven and hell.


The saints believe,

Sinners will,

Burn in hell,

And suffer.


The saints are,

Equally blind

And filled with chains,

That ground them.


I have come to you,

Naked,

As a wilful,

Sinner.

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