Your pulpit is not a soapbox
Your word is not God’s
And these people are not lost.
No, you aren’t saving these poor sods.

A man is more than his soul,
He’s a mind that fluctuates.
You cannot banish him to some fiery hole,
Because of some trait that you hate.

As we grow we learn,
That our minds define us,
The way they twist and turn.

We are more than you say,
Flawed by the garden.
We won’t have hell to pay
You cannot force our hearts to harden.