scars

We ask,
Is it I, Lord?
Is it I?
and yet
No one is ever
So sure;
those with hearts
of gold,
bloodstained
have no fear.
of the metal…
detector.
We ask,
Is it I, Lord?
Is it I,
and I think:
It might be,
me?
With this world
come the rain
And the rust,
is my heart.
forever…
unclean?