Sin Eater

Why do they do it?

Always.

Do I have some natural attraction for people to want to vent to me? To want to lay their sins, their problems on my doorstep. Throwing off their burdens that I may pick them up.

And I do, I’ve no recourse it seems. I assimilate them into me, unable to fend them off, seeping into my essence.

Am I some ancient sin eater, born to take on the sins of others?

Digesting all their garbage, eating the sins of others whispered to me though I don’t want the knowledge of them.

I’ve plenty of my own you see. Their weight firmly planted on my shoulders. Those are mine to bear.

I grow tired, tired of carrying the burdens, the sins, unloaded on me. Polluting my soul.

How may I unburden myself? Can I tell them to a tree or a rock. Puke them onto the ground that it may soak them up.

Can I scream into the wind my sins, have them carried away by the passing storm, leaving me cleansed.

Perhaps a fire, whisper them onto paper with a pen and burn it.

Will it give me release?

Will I feel the burden lifted?

Tell me not your burdens, I’ve my own to digest.