There’s no sensation worse than
suffocating; choking on what you
thought you knew
and not only that, but
not being able to rid yourself of it.

The beginning stages of life consist of
dependence, trusting what’s
being fed to you is beneficial and nothing less but I,
I started coughing when I was 12.

The subtle hymns turned into screaming and the
angel wings that fluttered about turned into
razors that only cut me and I
tried to swallow the blood that existed to
save me,
but I realized the cup didn't consist of blood, only
stale grape juice or wine and
the blood was coming from the angel wings that
fluttered about and turned into
razors that only cut me and I,
I couldn't spit it up again.

Smiles were still forced as I
stood up and down like a
soldier spying his prey,
giving thanks to a ghost for
making my life a living hell, with the hope that
my loyalty will one day be rewarded with happiness.
But I soon learned my only reward was
uncertainty and questions that would never be answered.

To my mom and dad, this would be a smack in the face, and to my
loving grandparents, this would be betrayal…
but to me,
to my this is me pulling the crumpled bible pages from my throat and
setting the angels that are supposed to make me smile, free…
finally, I can breathe…

“What do you believe in, then?” I’m asked with the most uninterested and,
cacophonic mixture of tones I didn't know humans were capable of producing, and to that
question I smirk and utter under my voice
“Me… I believe in me”.
I believe in taking credit for
all the good I've accomplished and
taking lessons from the mistakes I've made, not giving or owing credit to some
unknown force of nonhuman whom supposedly floats above us in a
realm of perfection that I am told I will never get to.
I believe in finding out who I’m truly meant to be and
being who I truly am, not being someone else’s definition of
“perfection” and
I think “everything happens for a reason” is bull**** and
saying my life is planned out for me is crap because nothing ever seems to go
right for me, and not only me but
what about the people in the less fortunate parts of our planet who
go to church under bridges and read the
bible on their fat- decaying palms, and still never know
when their next meal will be?

I wasn't aware religions are selective, or maybe
I, as well as major parts of the world
missed out of god’s VIP guest list,
because for those such as myself who grew up praising; apologizing for every sin and
reciting verses we didn't (and still don’t) even comprehend,
it sure as well seems like we
got the short end of the stick.

t.m.m.