A song in the darkness

On the day I was born I dreamed there was a knock on the door
and the shadow of a man who I met somewhere before
I asked him his name, but I didn't let him in
He said his name was Christ, and I introduced him to Sin
Sin was my friend, I think, and he was already here
and wherever I went he was always very near
Christ said he already knew Sin, and he knew him quite well
So began my first struggle with heaven and hell

When I was ten years old there was a knock on the door
and the shadow of a man standing in a downpour
It was Christ again, but I didn't let him in to dry
and he stood up against Sin and they looked eye to eye
Christ asked me to go with him so we could have a talk
but I told him me and Sin were just leaving for a walk
So Sin and I played in the rain that day
and I never did get to hear what Christ had to say

When I was eighteen years old there was a knock on the door
and the shadow of a man, the same man as before
He opened his arms as if to usher me in
and as I was about to go to him, in jumped Sin
We went to the back of my house, away from the light
and Sin showed me a flier for a party that night
On that flier was a picture of a lovely woman's bust
and I left Christ's love to satisfy my lust

In nineteen ninety-four there was a knock on the door
It was my little brother, crying, our mom had died on the floor
On the morning of her funeral there came another knock
This time it was Christ and he asked If we could talk
He took me by my hand and he wiped away the tears
and said he never gave up after all these years
I told him I was sorry for all the times before
and that it took my mom dying to finally let him in the door

Ever since then Christ has been in my house
and the light that he brings I could never, ever douse
Far too long my house was empty and dark like the night
and it was at my darkest hour that Christ gave me his light
Sin is still around, every night, every day
and though we're no longer friends it seems he'll never go away
but I try and keep him distant, I try not to let him be a part
of this house that belongs to Christ, this house that is my heart

Your narrative poetry always catches my interest all the way to the end.

Right on! And I spaced it differently than it was originally, thanks to you. Peace

I'm glad you're picking up some new techniques and learning as a writer. That's what this site was created for. "Right On!"