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Currently Untitled
This is a poem I wrote quite recently. I'm really shy about posting things like this, and I haven't written in a while due to my anxiety and my OCD. It's been really difficult to do it. It's hard to explain why. Anyways, even if this poem is shitty, I'm proud of myself for writing it. I was beginning to think I'd just have to throw the towel in.
Could you ask for a better end to your perspective?
You got everything you wanted, didn’t you?
Promises, uncontested, of hellfire and brimstone,
just punishment and suffering,
torture and that infamous lake of everlasting fire.
You brewed the fear in your cauldron,
drew it out, twirled it around your sausage fingers
until you wove your web of panic and paranoia,
phobias and hate,
and caught yourself a lovely little fly.
Beast you work in the name of the divine,
the vengeful,
the terrible,
the grandest piggy of them all,
the god of your desires.
And what hath thou profited, faithful servant?
the knowledge that your captive is dealt with,
brainwashed,
nailed to the cross,
and running scared?
Or, perhaps, have you gained a name,
a crown,
a whitewashed robe,
a page of purity,
a mansion?
Beast, thy name is liar.
It is written: Liars have their place in hell.
Beast, thy heart is corruption.
It is written: It is sown in corruption, it is raised in corruption.
Beast, thy lover is delusion.
Well, tell me what you think. I'm open to criticism, but at least TRY to make it constructive.
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