Word Pool Poetry

The sound of a closing door
The taps of a foot upon the floor
A man in black comes forth
To judge me for what I'm worth
And sitting still within close walls
Listening in fear for my name to be called
And walking myself into the stall
Telling him my sins and lies and all
And being damned by a man who knows not my face
Arrested with no bounds within this holy place
And colors streak from windows upon the holy air
And the door flings open for me to see it there
And the beams of light ended upon my form
The light cascaded like art and felt very warm
And from that day that I stated my transgressions
Stepping into the lovely light making it my opaque confession