a matter of confidence

Bygones

I walk to church. I sit, I’m forgiven,
And wonder whether my thoughts are just.
I feel dirty, worn, corrupted,
My prayers half-hearted, belief is a must.
The more I learn, the worse I feel,
Each waking day more difficult than the last.
Excuses made, I don’t know what’s real,
Mistakes I’ve made still haunt my past.

P.V.