was your God the one
who took my Daddy away?
He wasn't very old...

was your God the one
that sat next to the orphan
who didn't pray
and mocked them
because they had nobody left?
Was it your God that took them?

Do you allow your God
his ***** work
and let him take
all the accolades
for War and Famine
and Pestilence
and Hatred
and just say
It's his way,
his right, by his design
as the Divine?

Was it your God
that intervened
in the alley
where there was a scream
where just a little girl
grew up way too fast
but brutally
she didn't last
until the next day
to understand
what it all means

He didn't intervene!

There was no intervention!
Stuttered prayers
from broken lips
fell like glass
onto uncaring concrete
shattering beneath feet
that shuffled past
one who prayed
but at the last
lost faith
in a
God
that just sits
on his ****
and asks for praise
but could not even raise
a finger
in benevolence

That's why I will never pray

Ask and you shall receive

*******!

Ask all you like, what you give to the Universe, you get back, imaginary playthings, give nothing!

Just my thought on that...

-      She was a dreamer who lived in
an insomniac world. Nothing came easy…
      every time she tried to begin,
she would stumble and fall, but that
    didn’t stop her. Although she thought
differently...her will could withstand anything
    thrown in her way, just another challenge fought.
The past haunted her days, shadowing almost
      every move…every single breath. Time
always promised to make things better,
      but she knew better than to find
truth in those words. Truth lay somewhere
    far from where she had ever let herself dream,
too heavy from all the weight she carried.
    There was only one time she let herself lean…
letting her weight get the best of her, thinking
      she could find a way to dream peacefully forever,
but even then she failed to succeed.
      She lost the ability to hold her world together.
   Indifferent to the world, numb to all
emotion, she lost hope in being set free.
   The darkness surrounding so great; faith too small.
So she poured her pent up pain,
     into artful master pieces.
She sketched abstract obscurities
     that depicted her darkest of secrets.
She painted intangible thoughts and
   feelings she longed to be fulfilled with through
majestic words that put anyone who dared
   to read, in the footsteps of her soul. Broken and blue
she crafted old warn memories into the
     picturesque landscapes of her wildest dreams. She
elegantly danced with the monsters under her bed and
     gracefully with the skeletons in her closet… breaking free.