Resistance Poem by Derrick Andrews

Thus far I've been subservient,
Following the leader,
Blindly worshipping a god, though I never did see her,
It was required in my mind that everything remain clear,
So I questioned religion boldly, facing my fear,
Searched for answers to questions floating, deep in my brain,
Uncovering shocking revelations, and sharp inner pain,
For the religion I'd be faithfully following, was proven false,
So I left it defiantly, boldly, but at a high cost,
Because the second I left, it tried to prove to be right,
Ghastly apparitions appearing before me, hovering at night,
Remaining visible, only in my peripheral sight,
My mind wanted desperately to fight,
But all I did was take flight,
I'll never in life forget the things that I saw that night,
The ones I love appearing ghastly,
Floating slowly right past me,
Faces scarred up looking nasty,
All while murmuring, casting,
A spell on my soul so cynical,
I felt so low, so pitiful,
I tried to make this strange miracle,
Seem, somewhat lyrical,
Though now my soul seems spherical,
Easy thrown,
Rolled into a barren desert, where no grass has ever grown,
Though it was thrown into the pit of hell, broken and alone,
No fiber of my new being could ever try to condone,
For the hurtful pain,
And new disdain,
Caused by my reign,
And even now I question everything, even my name,
I doubt I ever was really human,
Though with a fine tuned grooming,
I could pass of as a frilled tulip, aged so far from my blooming,
The pain grows,
'Cause I know,
What I thought was a lie,
I feel inferior,
My interior,
Wishes to die,
Why can't I be forgiven,
For my ignorant sin,
Why can't I release these demons, I'm holding within,
I think I've realized, like them, I'm simply seeking revenge,
Like a dude who just got messed up, from drinking on the binge,
I stagger helplessly, wishing that I could feel whole,
But simultaneously, sadness was set as my new goal,
And now I crawl forward, hoping not to die here alone,
But all the loved ones before me, ask for a toll,
Reperations for all the bad that I have done in my life,
Repeatedly, ignorantly, as though I'm in love with my strife,
This life of pain and torture will never end by a knife,
But rather the repeated stabbing, of Grim's old scythe,
I hope in time, I would be fine,
Inevitably,
And though I'm dying,
I'll keep my hope forever in me...