 The Sinner’s Tale
Each hit brings herto weak knees. She prays
for another breath and God
does not respond. She prays
for one more laugh, God sighs.
in her pocket slips. Not a dime for the bus.
He laughs.
Head to concrete, she weeps for rebirth.
God sends her to repent
sloth and envy, a witch’s tale. No more
can she give when she has already
handed her soul,
the body that once nourished it,
and the brain that only wished for refuge.
Image: @romancing_the_road
