You would think God’s house is the place to find where you belong.
But once you claimed it as your own, it became the furthest thing from belonging.
You snatched it up in your hand and placed it in your mouth. Chewed it, for a few minutes, and spit it back out again.
And mixed with your saliva were the lies you told.
“Nothing could ever take your place,”
you said, like I couldn’t lose my flavor.
You chose the house of God instead, as your tasty treat.
Try not to get heart burn.