I am a Sistine chapel with holes in the walls. Gaping holes in my ideals and beliefs but still standing up.
I am an old rugged cross on your mantel, more of a decoration than a symbol of your house. A slogan on a cat poster more than profound words of God. More generic than I ever thought I was. More basic than Christmas Starbucks cups. Honestly just wanting the same stuff as everyone else. Perfectly happy living within my privilege making blatantly racist remarks. Just waiting for someone to call me out.
I am the welcome mat of a Sunday morning chapel. A piece of fabric meant to be walked on, but still close to God. I am the hard pews they sit on as the pastor talks. A tie to earth as you grow closer to the holy one. One of many lined up for the offertory collectors to walk beside. More generic than I ever thought I was. More basic than the boxes and boxes of gospel sharing pamphlets in the church's office just waiting to be handed out. A mix of earthly sin and a religious life.
YOU ARE READING
The Poems I Wrote For Me.
PoetryThis collection is a mix of happy and sad poetry and songs I wrote to express how I felt about life and situations around me. Many are inspired by deep or depressing topics, and suicide is discussed in a few of them. I hope you like them because the...
