If I told you you’re forgiven for all the pain you’ve brought me,
you’d shake your head in doubt and deny your culpability.
If I absolved you from all the sins you’ve shamelessly committed,
you’d raise your finger in defiance, with no crimes admitted.
If I pardoned all the lies you’ve told to keep me in your life,
you’d smirk haughtily in triumph and continue with your strife.
If I turn the other cheek to heal from wounds you created,
you’d laugh wickedly in my face; you’d cruelly be elated.
If I don’t excuse the injustices you’ve done through the years,
you’d wrap me within your evil web; you’d bind me with your fears.
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman