Words written centuries before my name was imagined,
When they think of my name, I’m labeled with these words,
Ideas invented long before my first breath,
I follow the ideas with every breath.

But is it real or just some silly fairytale?

They say my book is rooted in hate,
When read in context, I find love,
But the followers always seem to discriminate,
Are the followers denying the one above,
Or am I living a lie?

Gay marriage,
Women’s rights,
Human slavery.

In the ancient text,
I find confusion about the great debates,
Is our culture wrong,
Or does my way support hate?

Every single day I search for answers,
I beg for truth,
But nothing changes,
I find nothing new.

Can I speak to the author of my handbook,
Or must I keep chasing the wind?