Who Cares?

My collection of sins are worth more with time.

A son of Eve; I am roaming Eden naked inside.

With judgment dutifully passed and the mark branded.

I am now a lifetime member of Satan’s speak-easy.

Never shall I walk in the shadows of God's grace.

Instead I prefer the swine as my divine dinner guests.

My shit-filled shenanigans sour the fruit basket.

I am the ant at the pearly gates picnic party.

The heckler from hell...literally.

A deviant in a room full of decency.

I could continue this for eternity.

Writing funny little quips about how I am the demon seed.

Just give me an hour and I can give you pages.

It's pathetic really but cathartic for me.

So fuck it, who’s more the fool?

The writer or the reader?

Who cares?

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