Sin Sorry Sunday

Sin Sorry Sunday prose poem

Photo by jasminejennyjen

It’s now sin sorry Sunday, you don’t look so swell, look in the mirror, look like hell, start thinking, I’m sick of living this way, I’m steadily getting older each and every day. I go out looking for a good time, the more I go out the less I find, instead of getting ahead I’m falling further behind. It’s time to break out, go a new route. No more living in dismay, youvlook to the Heavens and start to pray.

Lord, I go party with my friends and keep finding myself deeper into sin. While trying to be like everybody else, somewhere I lost myself. I know this is not me, after year’s of working and searching, I’m still not in the place I want to be. Before I go out I put on a false face because I know I’m about to enter the rat race. Lord Jesus please, take my case.

When you drinking good liquor and good wine, you know it has come to an end when you have to pretend to have a good time. I’m drinking from a very bitter cup, I think it’ s time to put it down and grow up. I’m ready to make that Heavenly connection so you can guide me in the right direction.

And how do I know the format, Been There, Done That. I thought the only to cope was hanging with the crowd, drinking lots of liquor, doing big dope. It brought me to the end of my rope. Now I didn’t hear a voice, just a strong feeling, you have a choice. But the part I really resent, it took a mule to kick me before I got the hint. I knew the next drink, the next hit could take my last breath, cause when I looked in the mirror I saw the face of death.

But know this before you commence, you cannot straddle the fence. It’s either, up or down, swim, or drown. People, it’s not a riddle, there is no middle. So while sitting at the crid, I cried, forget death Lord I want to live. Then came the voice. Very Wise Choice.

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