My Ecclesiastical Attire Dressary

Everyone talks about,
The greedy gaws of death,
Sighing, I take my last breath.

The flames were so dire,
Slit my wrists on the barbed wire,
This here candle is all I require.

Never had an ecclesiastical attire,
The church was set afire,
Smokey angels take me higher.

Sin once called me a liar,
Killing myself has been my greatest desire,
Swore to Lucifer that I would conspire.

Bloody fists of the sire,
This was the single last chior,
I cannot let this transpire.

Ian Robert Potapoff