What is a God to a girl who lies?
***** uncouth words spill from her mouth
- and yet somehow, they allow her to fit in.
She spins tales of soot and filth,
to enthrall the listeners. Because,
these shriveling, snarling fibs,
draw in her audience under another lie,
called friendship.
Is it a crime if everyone does it?
And at night, as they fall to their knees,
begging for repentance of the sins they commit,
over and over, day by day,
she stands to the side, eyes downcast.
She wouldn't want to smudge her ***** hands
on the pristine altar
of a God not everyone believes in. But
she'll smile and lie again, to join her "team" in
prayer, thanking a God for blessing them
to continue on. For He died,
for all of us, they say.
Let's build an honorable totem, a glittering chapel,
of our sins we repeat. Even the priests,
constructed under the facade of
prosperity and blessings,
pocket the bills and laugh their way home,
to sprawl in the coins of the forgotten and sinful.
While the woman, crouched on the sidewalk,
struggles to feed her two children,
shriveled as the lies that girl told. All because
the programs wouldn't benefit. For she refused
of her own right (or not)
to go inside the chapel, but surely,
surely they didn't want her to starve still.
Perhaps the next one
would come in time.
Maybe this "God"
would be more forgiving.
But the girl,
the ***** filthy liar
stands by the woman,
hugs the baby
offers her sum. Meager, but something.
And so the woman lives on.
And as the girl walks home,
alone in dark and fog,
pockets light but heart as well.
For who is the savior?
The God or the Sinner?
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 11:31 PM UTC
What is a God to a girl who lies?
***** uncouth words spill from her mouth
- and yet somehow, they allow her to fit in.
She spins tales of soot and filth,
to enthrall the listeners. Because,
these shriveling, snarling fibs,
draw in her audience under another lie,
called friendship.
Is it a crime if everyone does it?
And at night, as they fall to their knees,
begging for repentance of the sins they commit,
over and over, day by day,
she stands to the side, eyes downcast.
She wouldn't want to smudge her ***** hands
on the pristine altar
of a God not everyone believes in. But
she'll smile and lie again, to join her "team" in
prayer, thanking a God for blessing them
to continue on. For He died,
for all of us, they say.
Let's build an honorable totem, a glittering chapel,
of our sins we repeat. Even the priests,
constructed under the facade of
prosperity and blessings,
pocket the bills and laugh their way home,
to sprawl in the coins of the forgotten and sinful.
While the woman, crouched on the sidewalk,
struggles to feed her two children,
shriveled as the lies that girl told. All because
the programs wouldn't benefit. For she refused
of her own right (or not)
to go inside the chapel, but surely,
surely they didn't want her to starve still.
Perhaps the next one
would come in time.
Maybe this "God"
would be more forgiving.
But the girl,
the ***** filthy liar
stands by the woman,
hugs the baby
offers her sum. Meager, but something.
And so the woman lives on.
And as the girl walks home,
alone in dark and fog,
pockets light but heart as well.
For who is the savior?
The God or the Sinner?
I don't mean any religious discrimination or any intent of rudeness towards any belief or belief systems. Thank you for understanding.