My parents have renounced me. Their purpose of belonging was the wreckage of a pasta plate, and my Garmin watch wished me a reset. Wherever I go, the pain of chagrin and fear engulfs me around the corners. Loud neighbors, intruding burglars, and mice are my dissertation to burn this gomorrah down with His weapon of justice. The pristine lattice of limestone pillars ceases while the glamour of Babylonian cult priests fathoms by the separated islands' fire of promise. Excessive lavishing of fools and the fruit of knowledge meet the dire Judgement. Independence Square marks 6 o'clock on the first day of June, as you cover my eyes from behind and start the countdown in tears. Remembers the days of argument, not the moment of pride. Remember, they cannot save you and live longer than I. Remember the times you were saved, even the moments of isolation at church. Remember that you're forgiven, and I am letting you free from them. Rebel with me against the rule of ...