I look up, at the above distant sky.
I stare at it, at its grey hues and clouds.
I feel it on my skin, the unforgiving rain -
it washes not my sins, but covers them in mud.
I am shackled, I am not free.
I am a bird, my talons in chains.
I am a dark crow's cawing cry
Tearing through the night's skin.
I flap my wings, black feathers fall.
I recoil but dry leather holds me.
I am skinned to the bone, naked
Skewered, spiked, denuded, bare.
Yet I am not the product of a lie.
I am a sinner who does not repent.
I am a footless man running free -
my joints severed to release my soul.