The Injustice of It All

The mistakes I’ve made will snare me in the end;
Not hounds nipping at my heels are they,
In hot pursuit of their ill-fortuned prey,
But constant hunters, gaining slowly, steadily.

While I remain in the pack, unnoticed in company,
I am hidden while the multitude shrouds my sins,
For mine seem not as weighty, as rich as others;
But one day, I shall find myself cut off, alone.

And when I on that day expend my final energies,
Collapsing without breath or strength or spirit,
I will know that Justice has finally come for me;
I will not fight it; I will accept what Fate may inflict.

Yet You have cut my chastisement short,
For you have not given to me what I earned
When I cruelly despised those who gave me love;
Do I now receive love in turn? Oh, unfair grace!