Between The Headstone & The Hearafter

I've spent my years soaked in faith, letting it shape my life. Now, the intricate patterns of my belief begin to unravel before my eyes. The graveyard calls to me. The vines, apathetic to the crumbling headstones. In this defiance, I confront the growing doubts that clutch at my heart.

I know that there should be a light from within the soul. But now, there is a blackened heart in the chambers of my spirit. My soul, once thought pure, now brings tears to our father’s eyes.

The world feels like a page from a book, begging for a new ending. The darkened pages of my life, hidden so disgracefully, now demand to be read. The violence of the lies I've lived tear at the seams of my conscience. The innocence of my childhood seems distant and unreachable. I can see how the vines have learned to grow among the dead, finding life in the decay.

The lie once wrapped me like a soft, comforting blanket of illusion. Now, a scratchy wool, chafing my skin raw with reality. The shameful sins, unjustifiable, showing their truths.