[ october 26th, 2014 ]
to go to church
is not an act of
cleansing
nor is it a day
of repentance
for the dirt i've done,
for my words that have
bruised souls,
for my vile, decadent thoughts
this past week,
starting from the second i left
the perpetually open doors-
it's just an act of faking, to me.
i don't dress like this
unless it's necessary
i don't behave like this
any other day
as much as i wish i could
fake it better,
be it,
i'm not an angel,
no higher than you are
just because of who
my father is.
at least i admit it;
don't look down on me now,
you,
cause i know that you're faking
christianity
too
don't bother to tell me
who i can
and can't love
when you're still covered in
blood
from the last week's escapade,
shooting someone up
all in your sunday best.
we're all fake,
parading in this masquerade
putting on our sunday best
but practicing our weekday worst.
p.s. - moms,
backbiting is also sin
but did they tell you that
at your church,
ma'am?
(or would redirecting you
to romans 1
be more beneficial
for your soul?)
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
