If we can create for ourselves
A living hell in this life. Then it only makes sense That the hell that we create might continue If the blackness of our hearts is real And not imagined. And if our conscience pricks us here When our eyes are dimmed By deceitful outward appearances, Then the same conscience might prick us there When the falsehood of our outer shell is stripped away, And all the more if we see more clearly there. We don’t see clearly here, And that’s the problem. Our conscience can be seared. We can sin without regret. All the more reason To face the inward contradictions Before we discover too late That what we sowed in life Follows us into eternity.
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