Deep Dark Sins

I'm the garbage bin 

holding the muck of my sins.

With the press of a button, 

the feeling of liberation 

from distraught.

The painting on display,

exposing every perfection 

and imperfection.

A bench on the grassy grove,

or a lighter, leaving nothing 

but a fiery dance to ash and smoke.

But at times, a cricket hiding

in the deep grass,

in the deep dark.