I don't believe in your god. I know, you think I'll burn in hell. I believe in my gods though. That has to count for something
I follow the old traditions. Many gods, they personify The natural occurrences the ancients couldn't explain.
I know you think I'll burn in hell And I know you think I should be scared. And I know you want to "save me" By converting me to your god.
But my ancestors roll in their grave At the thoughts of me abandoning The traditions I've learnt from my family They're your family too, don't you remember?
It's your sister that taught me, About the myths of our people About the time when we thrived And celebrated our life
Instead of constricting it, to the words of a book. Instead of giving it so many rules Instead of having threats and promises of a hell or heaven
But to each their own. You live how you want Just let me live, how i want, too.
I wrote this last weekend, at my grandmothers house. She's strictly Christian, and is always trying to convert me. I'm Wiccan, pagan, whichever you wish to call it. I don't strictly follow any religion. I incorporate many myths, along with science, to form my opinion of the world. I live by the motto "and ye harm none, do what ye will" so I harm none. I don't eat meat. I try to keep my anger in check, I don't fight back. I'm still human, I slip up, no ones perfect. And I can't help but get angry when people try to shove their religion down my throat.