Latchkey Kids

“I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside.” — CS Lewis

Bad times keep us growing

Good times keep us going

Until we outgrow

And, do, we outknow

The One, Who, calls the shot

Good times can go bad

Bad times, only, had

Till the fine line between

Can no longer be seen

Cannot wash, out, damned spot

Redemption's a joke

Damnation a cloak

To hide us from Him

Divine antonym

Out of sight, there, no doubt

Grand tour’s over

Full disclosure

Tallies our score

Down to the core

Kettle calls, black, the pot

Welcome back is a phrase

Denied by our ways

Of rebellion to the last

Joining those who are cast

With those who, Him, hear not

We're the cocksure winners

And the shockproof sinners

Who owe, no One, apologies

To forgive self-serving qualities

Key-in-pocket, stay, our lot