Catholic Heretic - Poem by Bridget Bush
You use your Roman dialect
and wear his guillotine around your neck
and you drink his holy blood
from a golden chalice filled only with mud
you eat his body, only bread
while staring at his thorn scarred head
you kill in his name
because you think he'd do the same
wipe out the nonbeliever
to be the religious reliever
'Can't do that anymore, what to do then?
Let's all fondle the young men
You won't get caught, there is hope
You'll find forgiveness in the Pope.'
do not worry, do not tarry
you'll only have to say one Hail Mary
then all's forgiven, there's nothing you can't do
ONE Hail Mary? God won't smite you
Burn the poor, pagan, and heretic...
'wait! that's us, the Catholic.'
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