Forsook Poem by Butch Decatoria
Forsook
Your body is a temple
Where love Is worship to the forsook
With such heavy vespers, breathing
Wordless cannons to the Divine
At our ends, repentance,
A tear so fine
Angelic cry on high
Final words climatic blasphemy
"Oh my god! "
In the end (without & within)
Death the only sin
Your body is a temple
Praying
Deliverances
The wretches of this life
Where all's forgiven.
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8/1/2025 7:33:35 PM # 1.0.0
