Albatross

Like an albatross,
Past clings like dross.
Round my bent neck
it hangs in check
by my golden cross.

Standards from long ago;
culture difficult to forego -
I strive to survive
just the daily jive
of struggles to and fro.

I pull out the rusty nail
of old doctrines which impale
the coffin of my life.
Objections are rife,
but my soul isn't for sale.