Disease (Sin)

It's not an end-times movie                                                                                                    
Filled with asteroids and comets
It's not an apocalypse
Of ice and snow
 
It's a slow, painful death
A growing cancer that eats
All the materials that should be building the body up
It's like AIDS,
Not killing outright
But making us so vulnerable
The weakest germ could be fatal
We don't even notice at first
The disease overwhelming us
 
We don't see the slow fade
 
We think it's okay
If we say those lying words
Think that hateful thought
Want that neighbor's car
Watch that dirty movie
 
We think it's okay
If we don't give to the food bank
Don't invite the homeless to spend the night
Don't visit the sick and comfort the hurting
Don't send money to victims of earthquakes and tsunamis
 
But every time we make those choices
We become the disease
That is slowly killing our world.