The passageway is narrow,
Frightening even in broad daylight,
There are so many like me,
Yet, unlike me,
Lost in the chaos of whose making, I wonder?
Barely is there any space,
To crawl to the other side,
Yet, no one wants be left behind.
Little by little,
In blood many stories are written and forgotten
To cringe in disgust will not be our shame,
The rules are different,
They most certainly won’t inspire a nation,
Even the closest shall flee.
If rebellion is our religion,
Then in our religion,
We are all corrupted, unborn...
From the fabric of lies,
Are stitched the clothes of morality,
Oh, how often we long to be naked,
Yet, naked, they tell you is ugly,
Even God must don a white flowing robe,
To save our mortal soul.
And this was to be a poem about God,
Such were my thoughts when I started,
See, life seldom takes you on a journey,
That would have you turning the rosary,
Not until you stumble into the crater of your heart,
And dislike what you find,
The uprising of the dormant seed,
Is then just a question of time.