All my secret sins, are blowing in the wind,
And some will fall on virgin snow,
Melting, and leaving small black holes,
That in some way reflect my soul.
They sometimes haunt my dreams;
Even in closed rooms
They enter through closed windows,
And slider under doors.
I kneel in the dark confessional,
Not knowing where to begin.
‘Forgive me Father, for my secret sins.’
© Fingleton (novembre 2016) (Löst Viking)