Every Tuesday I hear those ancient church bells ringing in the distance.
I cannot for the life of me comprehend why those bells are ringing.
But only a select few can enter that church. In my mind, I think only the wealthy can gain entrance there I might be wrong.
They won’t allow me in because of how I look the rags on my fragile frame looks so tattered and torn. I cannot recall when last I had a decent bath. I am sure I must smell absolutely so revolting.
Man runs far away from me because they think I have leprosy, but I know I don’t have it. The only thing that is wrong with me is my soul is riddled with years of insurmountable iniquities. Iniquities that I cannot recall if I committed them or I am carrying someone else burden upon my sagging shoulders.
Yet I was born from the same sand as those other people that run away from me. My face is badly sunburnt that it looks like natural birthmarks or scars on my face.
It is so sad that I couldn’t even taste the love in this beautiful life that some of us live in.
I was always the scorn of man ridicule since I was born. Not even my natural parents had the time for me; they abandoned their only son.
I live amongst the dark and dangerous forests of this place I call home. Where no sun rays can penetrate its dark and tinted windows. Only there I can find my eternal peace.
I have no clothes to warm this thin reed of a frame. My bed is the very sand that I come from. Mother Nature treats me like an outcast thrown to the winds of time.
Who will show mercy or absolve me from all my iniquities?
Only I guess time will tell no matter how long it takes. I hope I get that mercy, but who knows.
