The Conversation
I had a conversation
That slowly turned
Into a confrontation
It was with a saint
a demon in disguise
A married man
giving me advice
Praising me for my sins
And then kicking me
On my bleeding shins
I was down on my knees
Tasting my own blood
Watching myself slowly rot
So I said, "demon
You'll never have me"
He laughed at me
And said, "angel, why not?
I just want a sweet tryst"
I said, "honey, you may be
The Son of Man and
I'm just a hoe
But I will never be
On your friends list
You can't give me
enough money
Nor any amount of gold
Don't you see?
You cannot buy what has
Already been sold"
