Who Will Fix It?

Not a word to an ounce of pain
Nor a cry to weigh frustration
Because even though I write this here
I’ve given up translation

I’m tired of trying to tell you all
Exactly how I feel
Because frankly no one cares a bit
And I don’t think you’re real

You all seem to lack genuity
And that’s a bit that I can’t champ at
Because no matter how much I tell you so
Nobody cares to fix that

Consistency is my favorite thing,
But since so many people aren’t
I’m labeled as a hater
And no one listens to my rant

If someone shed a tear this morn,
That’ll be a first
But I think you’d most be lying,
Because it really doesn’t hurt

I can count on two hands
The people that deserve to cry at my death
Where the rest of you would sleep better
If I took my final breath

I want to get away from you
And you don’t want me around
The question is can I wait two years
To escape the silent sound

You mock and scorn my teaching
Even though you know it’s right,
Because you are neither salt nor light

You hate your God and damn his Name
Then you sit in Sunday School
And act offended when I damn
You as a lowly fool

You’re ignorant and bastardized
And I cannot myself fix that
You’ve lied to me, ignored Decrees
Your faith isn’t worth a rat

Not a penny to your Bible
Or a dust mite to your faith
But you’ll claim a million dollars
For the sake of your own name

This is my final agony,
So someone had better get it right
Plenty of you will stay right there
And won’t move a single mite

I tell no hope because there’s not
Until you fix this first
And shudder to think what awaits you
When God’s name you most have cursed

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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