Thu, 10/09/2014 - 09:18 -- CerGio

If there is a God why doesn’t it kill me now?

Sorry, I mispronounced that.

If there is a God why doesn’t it reveal itself to me now?

Now there’s this lingering question:

Is it real?

I asked my conscience, but

We’ve never seen it,

But it made us in it's image,

It's got a good sense of hubris,

We’ve never seen it,

I think I can beat it,

Sorry, I mispronounced that.

I think I want to be it.

Just like the almighty one above,

But I don't want the praise,

Leave the Amen I want an omen.

“I’m angry at you.”

There I go again talking to myself.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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