What if your god looks just like me?

And I will be one who will have to hear your

Heart,

Your if ands or buts,

Your pleas.

What are all these prayers for?

These saintly names

Is it all for your own ego,

Your own fame

You don’t mind causing pain,

Irreversible damage

Clinging to words of being saved

Knowing any wrong doing will be forgiven,

Damnation evaded,

That sins are a part of living

But you take a step while knowing to do better

Take destruction,

And make it clever

But what if your god looks just like me?

I am the one who will have to hear your pleas

And I don’t breeze

Over the gaslighting

The manipulation or emotional greed

The nonexistent apologies

Missing accountability

Watching you create illusions to maintain your sanity

Your judgment comes from inner resolve

And I’m not a quick fix you can solve

I am the one you deeply harmed

Masked deception in psalms

Effortlessly and brutally

shed innocent blood continuously,

Looking me dead in the eye,

Lying,

Adultery,

And pride,

Your convictions pile high.

Proverbs 6 couldn’t be more clear,

Listen closely my dear,

Your lying tongue,

Dating girls who were a little too young.

Your haughty eyes

Doused in foolish pride,

Unraveling your hearts wicked schemes

Coating it in your lords triumphs,

Apostolic dreams.

Your feet were always quick to rush to evil

Making your words masked in kindness and care

Even more lethal.

A false witness to self proclaimed disdain

Stirring up conflicts in livelihoods,

Where one’s inner being

no longer remains.

Redemption cannot be made with beautifully written words

The ability to profoundly speak has to come

With the intention to be heard

The universe knows all

it sees your dark secrets

Your most buried vice

Will the saint of smiles still expect their god to be nice?

I know how you work

You will mask that you are healing and growing

Trying to be that version you were

from your early twenties

your cycle remains

Chasing your own tale

At the end of the day

And

It’s okay,

Follow your books and your inscriptions

Categorize my depictions

As anger ridden memoirs

But when your time comes

And you wonder why your god looks just like me

You won’t have to know why

I am the one who will have to hear your

Heart,

Your ifs and or buts,

Your

pleas.