These are my thoughts on what it feels like to sit in church, where your father is your pastor, your step-mother is daughter to one of the mothers of the church, and your grandmother is one of the beloved "saved". Now I want you to pretend that you are a little black gay child, sitting in this hot church, among people you love, who do not know yet that they secretly despise you. I want you to pretend that you live in a world of black and white, where the "wicked" are not allowed to be beautiful at all, and that they have no knowledge of the beauty of God. That is what inspired this poem. Vengeance, a cry for help, a gallant declaration of war against the hypocrites who denounce the piety of the "damned".