Because if It all happened to be a untrue,
I am the victim. The vitim of a tastless joke.
Not a net of lies, but more like a blanket
stitched over centuries to comfort and to conceal.
Then again I wonder if it would change a thing.
for if life is a bed, I want to lie under the covers of Religion
and lay my head on the pillows:
Belief, Purpose and Promises of Eternity.
My toes are warm and i am cozy
And magical things called
Love and Success fly around me
like fairies bobbing up and down in the air,
but at fast speeds when I try to catch them.
And then when the hurt in my heart, my head
and the sides of my tonge
(where we taste bitter things) , overflow
and tears start leaking from my eyes- ill let it flow
and I'll say something hurtful to You
and You will feel as though
I am poking at you with a stick.
'Why? ' and 'How could you? '
Then I'll repent, say sorry, tell you that
you cannot have taken what was never mine.
And I'll ask you for forgiveness.
And so I'd have better days.