The monotone mumbling of a prayer
rumbling and memorized
i hear it
in my third eye
or my third ear
what, can't you hear?
the sounds of the faithful
who pretend to be unbreakable
but are just people
who pray at the cathedral
to a marvelous person
of which the existence
is uncertain
He who created the world
and then left us to destroy it.
unpopular opinion:
we aren't really living
but we aren't really willing
to give this false life up,
why?
you wonder,
do we live in this life
if something inspired
is on the other side
well we don't know,
we are humanity,
a mix of profanity
of hate
of lust
and a false understanding
of what we are
and what we can be
so we pray to something
that we can't see
so we are bold and confused
broken, overused.
and still we believe what we tell ourselves true
but we are just cells and atoms
remnants of cosmic dust
rejected by the universe
and I mean no offence
to those who believe in
a mighty man in the sky
but I cannot
not because I can't see him
or because I can't feel him
but because
I do not know him
and sadly
I do not wish to
call it weak
or call it strong
but I do not belong
with the saints
hung on my mother's walls
I do not belong anywhere
because I do not see
fate or luck
all I see
are the mistakes
humanity has made
and I do not know
if someone
is watching me now
write this poem
hiding behind
two sided glass
but if someone is,
I only ask of them this:
"what truly awaits us?"
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 8:52 PM UTC
The monotone mumbling of a prayer
rumbling and memorized
i hear it
in my third eye
or my third ear
what, can't you hear?
the sounds of the faithful
who pretend to be unbreakable
but are just people
who pray at the cathedral
to a marvelous person
of which the existence
is uncertain
He who created the world
and then left us to destroy it.
unpopular opinion:
we aren't really living
but we aren't really willing
to give this false life up,
why?
you wonder,
do we live in this life
if something inspired
is on the other side
well we don't know,
we are humanity,
a mix of profanity
of hate
of lust
and a false understanding
of what we are
and what we can be
so we pray to something
that we can't see
so we are bold and confused
broken, overused.
and still we believe what we tell ourselves true
but we are just cells and atoms
remnants of cosmic dust
rejected by the universe
and I mean no offence
to those who believe in
a mighty man in the sky
but I cannot
not because I can't see him
or because I can't feel him
but because
I do not know him
and sadly
I do not wish to
call it weak
or call it strong
but I do not belong
with the saints
hung on my mother's walls
I do not belong anywhere
because I do not see
fate or luck
all I see
are the mistakes
humanity has made
and I do not know
if someone
is watching me now
write this poem
hiding behind
two sided glass
but if someone is,
I only ask of them this:
"what truly awaits us?"
a ramble
(a little controversial, and I am sorry but I just had to write like me.)
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