Anthracite

On bleeding knees the faithful feel no pain

The sinews in their arms are tight, reaching up

To you who all hope is given to so willingly

Their sacrifice a currency to justify their faith

The tears are as salty as the blood shed for you

No questions are drafted to investigate the payment

Yet there are coaches lined up with hopeful passengers

And teachers scare little children in your name

A curriculum of fear is used to determine and build faith

So prayers and our young are given to a God swinging smite

The pain is a suffering made into a rule that must be followed

And with 3000 gods wretchedness and sacrifices are still petitioned

While birds sing and clouds bounce their way across the sky

Mothers prey for their children to not befall disfavour of the robe

All-powerful, all mighty, full of discipline and benevolence

Perhaps a simulacrum, or maybe you are actually a god

But I know, you are not.

This entry was posted on Mar 8, 2018 at 11:26 pm and is filed under Notes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.