I asked God

"Please, define me"

And I believe he as confused 

By my question, you see...

"What is my general soul?"

With this I recieved a knowing smile

Yet no answer, my goal?

"Can I be more than I am? 

Am I multiple people or just many sub-categories 

of one?" 

An eyebrow raised to this riddled tongue 

"Is there a reason to this sudden doubt 

Of my body's infestation?"

He suggested no negotiation

"Who are you, then?" 

His response: "I am the many eyes of men." 

His sound prevented me from being discouraged 

He speaks

Therefore I have no reason to wait weeks 

When I am itching to know...

"When I die, where will I go?" 

I expected- "to heaven, my child" 

Yet all I recieved was a look

Of mild

Bemusement 

A few shaky sighs 

Tragected through his supression

Of lies 

As he held out his palm

With a hand quite calm 

I understood the truth 

Of the pointless curiousity 

Possessed

By hopeless youth