Leave us empty inside.
Wrapped in fabrications of happiness and fulfillment.
These lies
Leave us broken inside.
That fable in the garden
Left lives wounded and scattered and fractured.
Marked our DNA with this propensity toward sin,
And our hearts with a deceptive muddiness that not even we can sift through.
These lies,
Leave us shattered inside.
Destructive waves in high tide,
Drowning us.
Making us wonder where the
Life
Has gone.
God didn't offer them a speech of why they shouldn't eat from the tree.
He just said no.
And put into motion a plan of redemption to make them white as snow.
These lies,
Seem prettier.
Clothed with a detailed response of how
Clothed with a detailed response of how
["happy"] we could be.
Yet clothed is what they are,
Garments covering the dark debris.
Yet clothed is what they are,
Garments covering the dark debris.
These lies,
Appear to be so bona fide.
Though they are but a guise,
That leave us empty inside.
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