Born-Again Atheist

Our backs were bent ‘til we were walking
on the knuckles of our souls
The trees were drinking angels’ tears
in the deserts where they grow
And the only time my heart was shaken
was when I threw it to the wind
I found the things the world has disproven
were the only ones worth believing in.

So the cynic learned to trust,
The atheist’s divine doubts were slain
The shackles of distrust forever left in the dust
And I was born again.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741