I can feel the mattress breathing,
I can hear the walls hearts beating,
I can hear the door screaming,
And the room is overheating.
You followed the moss,
And it led you astray,
Yet you don't feel betrayed,
While you pour money in their tray.
Can you see God?
Can you talk to him today?
Can we all stop this facade?
Can I please walk through the valley without your rod?
This town surrounds me,
The streets are closing in,
I'm blocked by the horde,
And there's no path forward.
Endless decisions made for the mindless,
Human error stretches on for yards,
I've been dealt my hand,
Now I'll just play my cards.
The streets close in.
No path forward.
YOU ARE READING
This Lost Heathen
PuisiA poem in the form of a concept album based around an atheist named Christian In a devoutly religious town.
