An empty altar,
These open bibles left unfinished,
The great doors long since unopened;
I am sat alone in the pews

With only the harsh cold,
Each occasional burst of wind
Through the rusty keyhole -
My only reminder of the outside world.

Am I locked in or is it locked out?

I burrow myself into an
Inimitable twilight concealed behind
Stain glass eyes that tell a
Different tale

I blink and I’m now sat talking
To god-knows-who,
Confessing to sins that I
Have not even committed.

Lord, how I long for something more.

I am trapped inside a
Building I have no faith in,
And I sit, staring, wondering:
Is this all really real?