tw: religion ✝️

My dress is wrinkled from months of disuse

The footprints I left here long ago have faded now

I am a moth in a butterfly sea

Standing out though I be rusted and brown

Is there room for me in these walls?

I’ve changed shape since last I fit here

I recount verses memorized in youth

Fighting to dispel this awful fear

He is mighty to make a place for me

_All those with clean hands may enter in_

Though my hands be filthy as of yet

It is here I find the soap and wash-basin