They whispered their dreams.
As if they wouldn't come true.
As if i would judge.

And God made
Me a prophet
Troll.

And I said,
Who the **** asked you
If I wanted to be a ******* prophet
****!

And he laughed
Telling me I better obey
His command.

I said, ******* what?

I ain't doing ****.

God laughed again.

Replying,
Just do what you always do
**** the system.

I replied,
Well I was gonna do that
Anyway,
******* *****
Ruining my past times.

I amuse God.

To those
Blessed by God,
Truly sanctified by
The most high
It is a burden.

A punishment
Of positivity.

The problem
Is.

You don't choose
To be chosen
By God,
He,
Chooses
You.

And, the pious
Turn green with envy.

The holy aspirant
Denigrates the blessed
As though their auspices
Entitle them a relationship
With the divine.

You cannot
Volunteer to be
Selected.

And God is the judge,
Not us,
Not our aesthetic preferences
Not our rightly deserved
Rewards,
For doing the thing.

God is my comforter
Until He's not,
And I honestly hate the guy,
Prefer Satan.

Deserve?

No,
Punished.

Jeremiah 1:5-7

Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.

Then said I, Ah, Lord GOD! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.

But the LORD said unto me, Say not, I am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak.