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The Unholy Church
Tell me the story where a boy and girl fall in love again,
The one where the boy, sensitive in his nature, falls for the woman.
Through a shy question, he asks for his love,
And through a kiss, the woman reciprocates.
They are perfect for one another, solidarity forms between them.
The woman’s mother and father bless their relationship.
Because, why wouldn’t they?
There’s nothing to repent.
They are perfect for one another.
They make each other happy.
Please, refuse to tell me any other story,
Refuse to tell me anything else at all.
Harness the energy of the story, and force it into me.
Repeat it to me until I become it,
And eventually, until I learn to love it,
And eventually, until I learn to hate that I have learned to love it.
Bring me to Church, and let me listen,
Tell me what is holy again.
Holy women, holy men, holy children, holy family,
Holy purity, holy human, holy worship, holy God,
Holy sins, holy forgiving, holy judgement, holy punishment,
Holy desire, holy disapproval, holy stares, holy Sundays,
Holy everything, holy I, holy you, holy people of the Church.
Tell me the proverbs and verses you live by,
And I will listen, attentively.
I will dedicate myself to it.
Disregard my desires, disregard my thoughts,
Disregard my humanity, for I am a worshipper.
Pain presents itself best through devotion,
For devotion is no less than sacrifice of oneself.
But we shall tell ourselves devotion is an act of good faith,
Of good morality.
Abominations are the epitome of humanity,
And therefore we shame it.
Spirituality is only essential, for it shall bring it us together.
Teach us to love thy neighbour as thyself,
do to others what you want them to do to you,
But confuse us with your morals, good and evil, right and wrong,
Confuse us with your shame, your punishment, your ten commandments,
And I shall cry, learning to resent Sundays.
Tell me, what is human and what is not?
Verses among verses full of virtue,
And the hot sting of vice.
It’s a philosophy to be admired,
That we all are not inherently good nor evil.
For we are all sinful at birth, He says.
It’s only the nature of humankind,
To hate and to love.
It’s pure innocence,
I’ve come to realize growing pains hurt,
More than anything else I’ve felt in a while.
Time is utter terror.
It grows, and becomes an entirely different entity.
I have had a hard time denying this fact.
It is a certain,
The only one I know.
Call the Church up for confession,
And question its holiness,
For it has been averting its turn eternities now.
Unholy judgement, unholy punishment, unholy hate,
Unholy control, unholy declarations, unholy force,
Unholy words, unholy verses, unholy proverbs,
Unholy bloodshed, unholy preachers, unholy church.
Have it admit its sins, and show it the righteous way.
Soak the Church in holy water,
And watch its struggles, hope desperately atonement is hasty in its arrival.
Hope desperately that the Church realizes humanity,
And hope desperately it learns what that means.