I’ve come to learn that I cannot pray With a full heart that’s devoted, unsuspecting of faith. And I’ve learned to accept that god might have mercy But he also has wrath And that’s what I see mostly.
Wars and death surround us so profoundly and yet we just pray harder so we can sleep soundly
Uncertainty is deadly I’m sadly inclined to believe so At least in this place Where it’s wrong to show ankle& toe. Or have weak faith be the reason or your woes Maybe God’s anger is why you’re not good at this and that It’s also why you can’t find your ‘perfect’ match Because your heart is tainted, and your mind too aware so they never fancy you as a ‘catch’ You’re not porcelain doll either, you’re full of scar and scratch so start praying harder dear (there’s no future with Gyllenhaal or Cumberbatch) and so you’re expected to bloom before you even hatch because nothing matters more than finding a match Or else you’d grow old and be trapped with lonesome that kills and a reality that slaps. “that’s what God intended” Is what I’m forced to believe so I can pray harder and never have time to grieve
why would god mind if I ******* Or participate in a heated debate About his existence (whether it’s real or fake) And why he causes all this heartache Because yet again All I see is death and wrath and sometimes I drown myself in a bath To escape all I’ve come to hate About this place and how people tell me my fate Because anything different would make the Lord angry Like raising your voice Or acting ‘manly’
So When will he shed light And make a child of war’s smile somewhat bright Because he abandoned them Or so it seems I guess he’s too caught up with my wildest dreams & the length of my jeans.