By the Color of My Sin
Hearts only grow harder
and flesh is never thin,
Some are much explicit
while others hold it in,
Dare, I let it lay
on the surface of my skin,
Lest I be judged
by the color of my sin.
A man of tobacco’s smoke
is a man oppressed in vice,
Cares nothing of his temple
in which his spirit lies,
Yet another man can feast on,
the decadence of foods,
Not a word would be spoken
of the toxins he consumes.
A man who sips his liquor
by the highlight of the moon,
Is a man so poor in judgment
and is quickening his doom,
Yet a man who needs caffeine
at every rising sun,
Won’t acknowledge his dependence
nor vent to anyone.
A man who curses freely
and is expletive in tongue,
Is a man of lower class
and respected by none,
But a godly man may speak
of those ethnically apart,
With disdain and deprecation
yet remain in the dark.
A junkie on the street
so vile and feeble,
Has sold his self-control
for a vial and needle,
But these candy-colored capsules
are bottled and labeled,
medically insured,
and legally enabled.
A man who shouts in anger
gives the darkness full control,
Moreover, he’s devoid
of all peace in his soul,
Another man can harbor hate
secretly at heart,
And can hide among the righteous
and not be set apart.
He who commits adultery
sins against his body,
His lust of the flesh
deemed forever ungodly,
But what of modern cinema?
Images and art?
He who looks at her with lust
is an adulterer at heart.
There are those who openly
give tribute to the world,
Those who sip, smoke, swear,
and collect diamonds and pearls,
Nothing here is new
the surface is the same,
We are all of one,
We are all to blame
But what of those whose faults are hidden
deeper than within,
Those who go unnoticed
are safe behind their skin,
Those whose eyes are haughty,
Those who choke with pride,
Those who do the kinds of things
much easier to hide,
As slander their own brother
and gossip among men,
As disrespect their mother
and bare false witness to a friend,
Whose gods are of their belly,
Whose gods are of their bank,
Who measure their own worth
by class and social rank,
Those who display holiness
like trophies on their shelves,
And those who judge self-righteously
as if gods themselves,
Hearts only grow harder
and flesh is never thin,
Some are much explicit
while others hold it in,
Dare, I let it lay
on the surface of my skin,
Lest I be judged
by the color of my sin.
