The Dynamic of self destruction

"Do you wish for us to bless your mistakes?"

Dear Father,
Bless me, for I have sinned.
It has been 13 years, and
This is my first confession.

I do not believe your house is holy,
Though I recognize it as sacred.
I will not listen to your praise of The Lord,
Or how many sins I have committed.

I will not convey that I am a demon,
For you no nothing of my past.
You may claim to have the lessons,
But I have lived through enough
Of your lies
To believe in a thing
That could break the Devil.

Try to bless me, Father, yet you know nothing of my so called
"Sins"
I will not be the one to cowar away from your hand,
No,
You shall be the one to cowar away from mine.

I am of young age,
Father,
Though,
If I allowed you to open your eyes
You'd see the truth of the matter.

Confessions are for the weak...
In a way,
Perhaps the strong.

It seems that half the nation pro-longs the
Period
That a mighty "man"
Can send even the weakest and ill deserving
The will to live,
But leave the broken,
Innocent,
On the ground
Gasping for a purpose
Greater than death.

Can you explain yourself,
Father?

Where have you gone?
In the weakest hour
Of all the weakest lengths
That seem to depict apart their existence
Into an eternity
Of suffering--
Why do you hide away from us?