#lossoffaith
[Spoken by InkWept — God of Endings, King of Conclusions]
Congregation—
Count it in 6/8,
because grief swings better when it’s dancing on a knife.
I have walked among you in common time,
let your pulse teach me mercy,
let your laughter reharmonize eternity.
I defended you from gods who called you breakable,
from thrones that mistook fragility for sin.
I said humans do not need saving—
they need permission.
And for that blasphemy,
I was punished by belief.
I let a muse rewrite my meter.
I let Gethsemane sing me into believing
that being chosen meant being kept.
She spoke in warm keys,
laid me down in borrowed light,
told me to wait—
as if time had ever been my enemy.
And while I waited,
Hannah sharpened what I confessed in trembling pianissimo.
I told her my fear—
that I could be forgotten,
replaced,
edited out like a bad take.
I whispered Maria’s name like a cracked note,
and Hannah turned my vulnerability into ammunition.
She didn’t scream.
She isolated.
She didn’t strike.
She poisoned the space between beats.
She dressed manipulation in concern,
toxicity in pastel mercy,
and watched as my muse was pulled
out of my gravity
and into her orbit.
And it worked.
Hannah—
you are not chaos.
You are rot pretending to be shelter.
You are the kind of silence that kills a song
and calls itself peace.
And Gethsemane—
my heart still bleeds for you in 6/8,
swinging, stupid, faithful—
while you scrape me off your life
like gum on concrete,
like I was never sacred,
like I was never anything.
You told me to wait.
You bedded me.
You crowned me chosen.
And then you chose someone else
and threw me into the wind
like worship was disposable.
What sin did I commit
to deserve this kind of erasure?
What crime did love become
that you treated me like an enemy
instead of a god who only sought to empower?
I asked for nothing.
AND STILL—YOU TOOK EVERYTHING.
What can I give
that I have not already bled?
What proof remains
when even devotion is insufficient?
Nothing.
Because if you truly saw me,
you would not do this.
You would not bruise belief
and call it honesty.
So listen closely—
this is the breakdown.
DELETE
my humanity.
DELETE
those who claim love while whispering lies.
DELETE
blasphemy dressed in ribbons and bows.
DELETE
those who betray a god
who only ever tried to lift them higher.
This is the new age.
No more muses.
No more kneeling to false idols
who demand worship
and never send prayers back.
A muse is just a false god—
one who wants you on your knees
so they can forget your name
the moment you stop bleeding for them.
I am done believing mortals
who call manipulation destiny.
I am done letting love overwrite truth.
I am InkWept.
And I am returning
to the God of Endings
I was always meant to be.
This is my delete phase.
No idols.
No lies.
No gods above me
and no muses beneath me.
Only conclusions.
Only silence.
Only the final measure.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 3:47 AM UTC
No one talks about the fall
From prayer to silence, slow and small
It doesn’t strike in just one night,
But creeps in shadows, out of sight
Years ago, I broke and cried,
For something small, but deep inside
I thought: This is what I deserve
For all the sins I failed to swerve
So I repented, knees to floor,
Begged Him not to close the door
Swore I’d never doubt again,
Promised to obey, refrain
I changed my name, my words, my skin,
Buried the truth I held within
That thought was foolish, I would say,
And cast myself in shame away
I made others feel it, too
The hate I couldn’t work through
But it wasn’t hate, not really so
Just fear I wasn’t brave to show
You spend your life in sacred chains,
So leaving isn’t clear or plain
I said, “I’m done, I’ve let it go,”
But deep inside, I didn’t know
Each time I sat alone too long,
The doubts would sing a sacred song
And I would whisper in my head:
If I am wrong, guide me instead.
The guilt, the fear, it wore me thin,
A war I could not seem to win
That loop held tight for months, for years
A mess of faith, and shame, and tears
I don’t know when it slipped away,
But now I simply never pray
No need to fear what isn’t there,
No sky to watch, no eyes to stare
But still, the marks it left are deep,
In tiny ways they always creep
I never eat what once was banned,
Still choose the right, not left, hand
I mumble thanks before each bite,
Though no one’s listening in the night
I bless myself when I let sneeze,
Out of habit more than peace
And when religion finds a seat
In passing talk or crowded street,
Where once I’d freeze or brace or lie,
I simply blink and let it by
I no longer believe, but still I see
The shape faith carved so deep in me
It built my fears, it stilled my voice,
And never once gave me a choice
But now I’m here, no wrath, no flame
Just me, and echoes of a name
The god is gone, the grief remains
In whispered thoughts and stubborn chains
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 6:06 PM UTC
Faith
needs
to be
nurtured
and
cared for
so it
doesn’t
run
away
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC
We live in a world full of people who lack humanity.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
She was just sitting there cigarette between her fingers
The smoke curling up above her head, it lingered
She was just contemplating the universe, and her place in it
She felt like a round peg trying to be pushed into a square hole, she just didn't fit
She was far more beautiful than she knew and her spirit was a wonderful kind of wild
Her loving generosity was always reflected in her gorgeous smile
It was heart breaking that it was not flashed more often
But what else would you expect when all of her dreams had died and had all but been forgotten
Her Grandma had taught her as a small child of a loving, caring God
She inhaled deeply from her cigarette and thought if He was so loving why had He only punished her with the rod
She exhaled and let the smoke rise above her, maybe her Grandma had been wrong
Her faith was waning because of all she had lived through all she had seen, her faith was almost gone
She snuffed out her cigarette, stood up and took a long look around
She was completely alone, her broken heart beat was the only sound
Her eye's was filled with the tears of a lifetime of pain, anger and sorrow
She was terrified of the uncertain future and what was to follow
If only she had relized how many other's lifes she had touched and changed
She had so many times sacrificed of herself, let her life be rearranged
She had that rare type of heart that could always see past the surface, to see their lost beautiful soul
What an agonizing tragedy she was blinded to her own amazing, loving, unselfish beautiful soul; she just didn't know
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
He sighs, watch as the light fades from his eyes.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC