Like an angel fallen from grace,
your words slip through my fingers,
And no matter how hard I worship and Pray
the consonants and vowels
never seem to stay.
Like a diety I visit every day,
don't you know that your touch
is my only saving grace.
But a merciless god you are,
never giving into my pleas,
your reverence for me
the same as it has always been
something akin
to nothing.
I just want to forget you
and resent you
and repent you.
And yet my knees meet the hard floor,
parallel to my chin,
I bow down to you-
not as a lover nor a friend.
You speak to me in a golden hue,
dutiful and saintful
soaking in the holy ruse.
I never believed in a god,
a higher power,
I know why now- me a god- fearing child.
You are the closest thing I have ever come close to-
a higher power.
I am faithful to you,
my pious is unbound
And no matter how far down
you fall
Your sovereign will not be without
To the worshipers
And the worshiped
YOU ARE READING
To The Ones Who...
PoetryThe title of this book says "To the ones who..." But if I'm being honest it's not to "the ones". It's to you. And As desperate as it seems, I just hope one day you will see this and know in your heart that it's me. So here a collection of haphazard...
