The Depraved (poem by me)

The heavy wooden door creaks,
A half-dead butler speaks,
"Welcome to the House of Horrors,
Time to meet some fiendish freaks."

You can feel free to rove and roam,
To me, every inch is well known,
Because this house is my own mind,
I'm always trapped in my grim home.

Morals may seem out of place,
My conscience is a wide open space,
My lack of empathy is chilling,
But my rage stokes the fireplace.

How did you get a Bible in—
Past the freaks and heavy sin?
Read another cleansing verse,
Teach me freedom and salvation.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and 
will forgive us our sins and purify us from all 
unrighteousness." —1 John 1:9
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