We scramble for rags, and try to control,
 when milk is spilled from the bowl.
   We dab at our shirt, to clean a grease spot,
 it's known to be called "damage control".

    When our budget is busted, we rein in our spending,
 to minimize financial drain.
    Internal hemorraging is always addressed,
 when neurologists work on the brain.

    If our words wound someone,  intentional or not,
 when sorry, we tell them we're wrong.
    We admit sins to God, and tell Him we need,
 our guilt,  exchanged for a song.

    But there is no damage control when we die,
 our destiny forever in stone.
    a sobering thought, no reversible fate,
 in hell,  no appeal to God's throne.

    The Cross was the ULTIMATE damage control,
 to mop up humanity's  sin.
    The offer of Grace, for residual wrongs,
 to Adam and all of his kin.