part of my brain thinks you're a phony.
the rest of it knows we're just the same.
~
what if i were a pastor
comfort in the fear of an all-loving god
would i be hapless like a prospector
tailing the gold rush, seeking
sour grapes instead?

child, i do not pretend to live your pain.
though if i were to drop this cross and collar
all that they thought i was
would you let your story be heard?