Speaking with Peter

by vermismeridiem

A Brother told me 

That He cared for 

Other people, and that

He wished to help them.

 

Though He a Brethren,

I could not believe Him.

 

Maybe it was because

He wore a passé 

Track jacket, and

Sweat pants full of lint. 

 

Or it could be that 

His face was covered in

A slew of horrid

Craters—

Something that pegged Him

For a serial killer.

 

Or was it me,

Who is of little Faith,

Had simply refused to believe

Any Good?

 

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