When I Sin

When I give into the sin,

it consumes me like an inky black darkness,

and it touches my skin and my insides and everything that I am.

And when it’s over,

I scrub at my skin with my hands and try to peel off the black-

it overwhelms my throat and I just want to spit it out but I can’t,

the guilt clouds my brain,

and it’s like smoke in my lungs and I can’t breathe.

I want to lie on my bed until I crumple into a million tiny pieces,

so maybe I wont feel so dirty and gross anymore.

I want to wash the clothes I was wearing until my fingers are raw,

I want it to go away–

the noise–

the constant freaking noise that harasses my brain and accuses me-

it tells me who I am as a result of what I did and I loath it,

but I have no words to retaliate because its true!

I made a choice because at the time the consequences seemed so tiny and minuscule but afterwards,

the consequences blew up like a black balloon with helium in it and it popped and covered me with thick, black, ink that dies my skin and my blonde hair and my nails and my little pink lips.

I want to feel-

it my bones-

in my veins-

what it feels like-

to have the darkness washed away.

I want to see the black stains on my body-

turn white and icy and pale.

I want to feel,

my lungs deflating from the smoke,

I want to taste clean air.

I need to experience redemption like I am being born again,

because when I sin, I feel so dead.

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