Guilt

Clinging to hope. Faith and Divinity.
The Cleric, The Pope, The Sea of Tranquility.
The upbringing of Sacred singing inflates in our conscience.
Nurturing Sundays bring moral obedience.
I awoke one morning to the sound of bells.
Each ding of a ring struck a chord to Hell.
My body lay limp as I lacked ambition,
For the indulgence of sin I gave capitulation.
Excuses distract; another week will progress.
Sundays expire; my body, I'll undress.
Materializing. Momentarily satisfying.
Avoiding the unavoidable day of dying.
Guiltless 'till apprehended; anon, I lament.
Detained in this prison, I begin to repent.
I lie in bed, crying a catharsis of tears,
Selfishly kneeling and feeling fear.