You say I am to blame for using
the cane with my shame
I will lay prostrated for you now,
As you choose to play at the gate
in a way so loose in front of God,
My memoir sits embellishing the hits
with my might,
and makes me the overachiever,
Prosecuting and rebuking your feed and ways
Getting a real deal with memorizing my heart
when I lay my art at your hands.
Its up to you only to record your duty
Pulling out the weeds
and letting bloom the one who created you
is the mystery
so enriching as you lose your pitch you know
who you have to depend on
To mend your scarf
Is not in shaming God,
but yourselves
In the beauty that influences your tame