FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. I love you so much but fuck you. Fuck you more than I can say. I turn to you with all that I have which is my voice and hope and you turn it back in the form of whatever or denial every single time. My friends are in pain. They are hurting they are going through the unimaginable and what the fuck I am asking for help. Maybe I take this into my own hands again and start doing those spells you seemingly hate so much but work so incredibly well. Or I enter a meditative state which has brought me sleep paralysis and demons in my dreams who come and enter into my midst once I do it. Why are you the creator of all but yet half of what you have on this earth is supposedly demonic. Not the point. FUCKKK YOUUUU. BUT I LOVE YOU. PLEASE HEAR ME. HEAR MY FRIEND. PLEASEE.
Do You see me?
Not the way they tell me You do.
Not through a stained glass lens
or the trembling hands of saints.
Do You see this wreckage of a child
still screaming through adult lips?
I am holding every wound,
every shiver in their chest,
every goddamn plea that rises from
their mouths like smoke
from houses You let burn.
I throw words at Your sky
like stones at a throne too far away.
You say silence is sacred—
but it feels like absence.
It feels like when I begged
and the lights flickered,
and You called that an answer.
Is this the test?
Is it the silence?
Is it the breaking and the not-bending,
the holding on by fingernails
to a ledge You built too high
for anyone to climb without bleeding?
What good is a kingdom
if Your children starve at its gates?
What good is power
if You will not use it
to reach into the real,
to stitch the soul back into skin?
I would trade every scripture
for one night of peace
for the ones who weep in whispers.
I would burn every holy book
if it meant they'd dream without monsters.
But still—
God damn it—
I do love You.
I don't know why.
Maybe because You made me with this ache
and called it hope.
So I howl again,
because sometimes prayer
is just another word
for please don't let them drown.
So I cast spells.
So I scream.
So I kneel
only because standing breaks me faster.
Come down.
Come here.
Not as thunder.
Not as light.
Just as presence.
Just as yes.
Just as I see you too.
Amen?
Amen.
But say it back this time.
