THE CONFESSION

It was always trouble, I did attract.
Evil men, I sometimes backed.
I'd help them with who they assailed...
for the meager payment of a mug of ale.

My reputation remained intact.
For with these devils, I made a pact.
The deal was one, I could not retract.
This decision was not bewailed.
It kept my ass away from jail!

So, I kept on with my anarchy.
I didn't forsee the agony,
I caused with my audacity.
Each and every atrocity,
increased my velocity toward...
a vengeful philosophy.

My effrontery became the death of me...
for I developed and maintained a dependency...
on depravity.
My "little death" was a soul sickness, which affected me.
I didn't predict this, for I was un-free.

Now I know the error of my ways.
The sap of youth is gone for days, weeks, months, years.
The mug of ale is filled with my tears.
I view my life, the wasted years.
I pray to God, it's not too late,
for me to love, and not to hate.

But habits die hard,
this is true.
A moral life, I did eschew.
The saintly life is out of reach.
For every law, I eventually breeched.
I hope at last, to be a man...
and right the wrongs, while I still can.