The Wrongs of Gods In Sheep's Clothing

Before the light, before the rain,

before we had anyone;

They came by Nile during the day

to benefit the wrong-love.

Been versed in violence; held, be vain-

until yesterday came upon them...

The Free World's Sweet Lies

Cold. I am broken pieces of you.

Solidity never modified to feel

anything more than that which is.

I long to be what is not.

So tender and chilled, my hearts beat.

I have waited forever for the practicality 

of nothing.

The reality that I am so much less

than what I had imagined,

than what is real.

I strangle each confession, believing it.

Tasting the succulents I am told are sweet.

Biting into them to find molded over

remnants of what may once have been

so very saccharine.

Oh, I wish to be

all I may be;

Every, that you are not of.

& let the seedlings sprout inside my spirit;

To grow something more wondrous than I.

Harvesting it for you, 

so you may feed, 

lapping the sugar

I have told you is sweet.

Keeper,

You'd be so proud;
the way I've grown.
Crushing goals,
all set in stone.
Though, my soul
not heed a word;
My spirit runs,
free as a bird!
& no one knows...
for their eyes be closed.
But I know you see
through a haze of them;
That someone that I am.