I am not a godly soul.
I am no fool to be told:
when to pray and how
to act. Breaking my back
for some divine pact.

But without god,
where are you?
Does that mean your
soul has withered, too?
You have passed
without us meeting.
But when I'm ready,
will it be you I'm seeing?

Or are you simply
bled and flushed.
Kicked out of my home
much too rushed.
My structures could not
bear your life. You're
cradle broke, despite my
plight.

I am not a godly soul.
No book of hypocrites
can tell me no.
I don't search for answers
in the form of prayer.
But I'd believe in god,
if I could have you here.