My hands were still clamped in prayer as I let go
Dancing dice with white dresses stained with black holes
They needed patching, as well as my damned soul

Was the black cloth what I was searching for
With religion to sew the deeds my morals wore
A holy seamstress hesitated to tend to my snags
Pages of the bible stapled to my barbaric rags
But as I took each step, His word peeled off
As if he was christening the very path I walked

But No…

I dared to look behind, and see the pages disappear
Cowering in the cracks, crumpled out of fear

What does this mean…

Hands pressed in prayer, wind stripping me of spirituality
I prayed to be haunted, Holy Spirit grace my morality

My hands were still clamped in prayer as I let go
Dancing dice with white dresses stained with black holes

Denied a second chance at life, denied his affection

One page remained…

Ripping off the page, in frustration of rejection
Eyeing one word, a second chance at life, resurrection

I never saw the dice touch the floor.