Seven

You stagger through the door, belligerent and blind. Anger that only spirits could invoke - menacing - gleering through your eyes. Standing like a swaying mountain aflame; screaming. Shouting loud enough that I could here you from the distance that was but one meter away. You're right. You're always right. Forgive me please. Father, father, facetious mimicry. Tonight I'm the inadequate one, the waste of life - judged by one who is gloriously living in a world that tumbles from Monday to Sunday. You lie. You curse. You drink and cause strife. You broke her heart and broke her will But you are forgiven. After all, you're faithful. Tomorrow,when the bells toll, it will all be gone. The demons of existence bottled under polished shoes and white shirts; a facade for the devout neighbors that peer from behind their own masked affliction. You sing and smile and act Human. You praise and laugh as if to justify your piety. You hide your tarnished soul in the place one would least expect it to occur; palpably before the eyes of the one that sees it all. You're heartless, venal, Idle and Vain. A salacious, bitter glut. Forgive my forgetfulness, it often slips my mind. Seven traits beneath the face of a "pious", "godly" man.