Sweater Sin.

I own a wool sweater.
I wear it everyday.
I've tried to remove it time and time again.
Yet, it stays.

I own a wool sweater.
It fits perfectly on me.
I suffocate and fall under it's weight.
Chains bind the seams.

I own a wool sweater.
I knitted it myself.
The thread I chose is my hate, my jealousy
My lust for filth.

I own a wool sweater.
Unraveling at such slow pace.
Threads slowly fall to ground as I stretch
to touch that gift of grace.

I'm owned by a wool sweater.
That I knit and mend.
My sweater owns me.
I'll wear it again and again.

I'm enslaved to my own creation;
though it slowly crushes my heart.
But, I'm comfortable in my cell, snuggled in.
Cozy in my art.

Save me from my sweater.
Save me from my sin.
Free me from this weight I wear,
and I'll finally know heaven.

I long to rip it away.
I'd gladly shrug it off.
Save me, free me
from the weight of my self-inflicted cross.

His cross is the first hole.
His death is the first pull.
He rose and the sweater unravels for good.
My freedom now is full.

I owned a wool sweater.
He wore it just for me.
He bore the weight, my addiction.
And now I'm eternally free.