Friday, July 15, 2011


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

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