Jerrod Jett
i remember when you thought you found godpainted a cross on your foreheadand wandered around my backyard like a saintor a shepherd tending to his flockthe irony was not lost on meand for all your newfound loveyou still seemed like a bastardthen, you carried on like all the world was yoursto pity and to teach and comfort(as if because, somehow, you forgave yourself,that all your terrible deeds have been undone)