So-Called Believer

Question what may have been thrust upon you—  

of the years of belief.  

Ask to understand the some, but then stop not at such.  

Go forward.  

There is no God, and as such,  

the writings of one are only false doctrine.  

I met one.  

I stabbed him through his web of false verses.  

I don no religious symbols,  

I only carry the heart—  

every ounce as dark as the praying,  

wishing to find heaven or such—  

the lies fed to them of some grace’s deliverance.  

There is nowhere this life goes.  

Your morals don't need a God—behave.  

I try to.  

You stay alive because I refuse to pursue  

and act on conflicting beliefs.  

You and me—so different.  

So much difference.  

So much so—  

Evaporate.  

Free this existence of your presence,  

you zealot, for you foul this gentleness of every night and day.  

There is no redemption for you—  

your belief in macabre writings,  

by evil hearts.  

I do not see you.  

I will always refute your existence  

as the choice of holy.  

Die.