Faith Is Jumping That Pit In Your Stomach Poem by Bianca Fiechter

I want to believe,
Really.
But,
There's this little monster,
He runs and twists his heels
Into my flesh.
I think he's on something,
Or on to something.
Is truth a drug?
Something has him rattled.
He spins and jumps, stomping
Pins and needles feet,
That's why my eyes squint,
Focus, stare into those words,
Searching for their weight.
But they only float higher,
With the wind from the door
That I walk through-
Away.