I’d believed the lie
I conjured nigh
The hour of my undoing.
That I am unforgivable
That I am my mistakes,
Thinking some fears
Can’t be assuaged
Those depths too deep
To ever plumb fully.
Now disregarding my grief
For your magnitude,
Your tongue the printing press
That published the good news
With words inked
In your blood
That should be mine.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 