The Gods Must Be Crazy

A poem about why being a martyr sucks.
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Bound by the bane of freedom
And delivered to martyrdom…
God looks down upon me in pity;
Intoxicating promises of his heavenly city:
A veritable paradise forged from my desire,
Choked by weeds of lies and forgotten in a mire.
Devotion and sacrifice left me in a rut,
And I crawl back to a world of smut.
Crafted from flesh so meek and mild,
My faith is a stillborn child.
Disillusioned by the conflict in my head,
From my pores, decades of repentance bled.
Justified along my brethren, mounted on stakes;
I will not crack, no matter how my body quakes.
In my throes, I beheld the kingdom of God…
Rotting far away from his love, I yet laud.
I’m still a heap of flesh and bone
Singing the psalms of a blinded drone.
Category:We Go Bump 2
Category:Gods
Category:Poetry
Category:Mental Illness