The Holes Of Hell Poem by Allan Chorusch

I once was a churchgoer as a little kid with aspirations to be a priest or a Christian helper somehow this never occurred the abuse took hold of me the abuse scared me so much mentally I didn't finish school because of the many escapees I did Somehow I managed life til now I thought of taking all of it away thus I am here today.

Shamed and named by your piers wasn't the life I dreamed of told to sit and wait till the next beatings weren't even inany way comfort believed not ever even the police never believed the church priests were in power they were allowed to use us and toys not boysa pawn to them choosing of their own a vast unsettled life was to be had by myself Yet they hold a lousy meeting to say how bad I was how evil I was to God and his followers for fighting for trying to be me for escaping

Many years pass and I never forget each day I lived in the hole of hell the way it stood the way it was its a story we now know well
the doors fly open and in their cloth, they stip us naked and ply us with drugs and we are limp to those who preach Gods words

why do people trust thede demons of Hell why do they ever become Gods Guidance why is it we get small yet little comfort psychiatristsdoctors whatever way the court's prison because of vulnerability

this is the holes of hell not being a proper child, not being a taught learned person but to learn on the streets to feel left out to have nothing and yet watching these priests live a healthy diet a happy home life a wallet filled with publics cash is given to the church as they are trusted they are the word of Godso they say but my version is the key to The Hole of Hell