Seven- Shortened Force


Here they are feeling like glory in robes
there they go chin up watching the sky
waving their finger
challenging nothing
rituals become their comfort
here they are feeling like glory in robes
the blood drips from the hem
they feel mighty
sweeping over misery
saying they’re holy
standing on the meek
with promises of rule
when there they go
building more thrones
flashing a smile at the mules


I am a glory unto myself
you see my wounds
Christ would be jealous
how blasphemous of me
I don’t have cups to fill
but I cup my hands and wait for rain
they tell me I look like a beggar
but who took the beggars home?
Christ would be jealous
of how hard it is for you to bruise and hurt
it would’ve come in handy
for when the nails were hammered in
but you wear the cross as a remembrance
and forget yourself
when the pie is up for splits


An ache in my chest
reminds me of the doors
the vast room I rested in
after roaming the deserts of where You were born
an ache in my chest
reminds me of my human
I am no glory
I am not holy
I am like the tree
I am like the green grass
but my stench when I bleed
is not as fresh
so, I go bathe in a river
making myself feel
truly feel this ache
God are you watching?
roll the dice
tell me by chance
where to rest, where to die


Fix your eyes on the stars
you know what makes them
and yet you do not awe
how dare you?
ego is not the driver
ego is the furnace
the soul is the fire
your body at the helm
fix your eyes on the stars
know what makes them
you may see a battle
but not every force
is to be seen so maliciously
if you listen close to your heart
it reflects the same drive


Do not betray me God
help me make sense of my senses
do not berate me so called holy men
may you die a thousand deaths for your constant deceit
do not roll the dice anymore
but Boxman your hands are no longer on the table
I won’t make any call
I reach into my pocket
I’m searching for a blindfold

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