Raised by fear, fueled by hatred.
You believed without question,
That you had been told the truth,
That you were God’s selection.
But why would He do so?
Can you answer me?
Why have you gone mute?
It should be simple, you see.
If you cannot answer, then where are we?
Have we passed the threshold;
Where is this so called reality
Between the shreds of white and gold?
This endeavor is not pure.
Fire might cleanse, but you abhor.
God has not chosen thee,
You have merely searched, thinking you see.
Reading a book of archaic script,
“The word of the Lord”,
All holiness in those pages, you have ripped,
When you agreed to asperse the “sick”.
They do not need such a cleanse,
They are holy themselves,
Without need of reading or choice.
They have so strong a voice.
That no inclemency may penetrate,
Such a soul glorious as those,
Who you have so wrongly accused
Of raunchy sins of lust.
Heed my warnings for this much is true:
If you do not stop judging,
Then I shall make sure to stop you,
Even if it is the last thing I do.