A guest post by my "cloistered brother," Mick.

Broken and empty,
Hollowed out like a tomb, barely any room, for life to bloom...
Yet, You call for this to be given,
You've crossed over from the land of the living...
Sin's power has been shriven, the pain you paid...so I could go on living...
So I kneel upon this sacred spot, I see the wounds,
I don't feel so hot, burning and searing like I'm the one, who's been shot...  
The bruises for losers,
Nails for those in jail,
The wood's for those who don't live as they should...
Holes of the sinful souls,
 Still I kneel upon this sacred spot,
A broken and empty heart is what I've got, still you call for this to be given,
Clean and white like the finest linen, this is the promise you've given, only asking that I, learn to stop, sinning...

*Pencil in the Hole, p.3.

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