Not you

Not you they hate but who you love

the Holy One sitting above,

and so they take it out on you

and yet they hate Him, you in lieu.

 

Not you they know nor who you know

for He has made you white as snow,

and they are mired within their mess

not knowing they’re in hopelessness.

 

Not you they see but someone else

but really they’re of someone else,

the harpy’s iceberg, not the ship

lurking, immense, we see the tip.

 

Not you they love, oh not at all

since they are Adam’s, of the Fall,

and so we were and would be still

if Christ had never left that hill.   

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