"Dogma!" I Exclaimed As I Criticized the Savior of His "Sacrifice" and Unnecassary Cruci-fiction

Like sheep to slaughter
Or a self-conscious martyr
I'm bathing in seething despair
And infallible disrepair

Everyday I grow jaded
Surrounded by what I abhor
Everyone's so petty and exasperated
They've killed the silence I adore

They wipe their ass with the hand that feeds
Then complain about their first world "needs"
They trade lives for pennies on the dollar
Fitting us with restricting collars

Maybe they're dead and they just don't know
They're already in Hell and this is just a show
Unaware, they live out their lives
While I sit here carving out my eyes

I'm stuck in a cage
Condemned by the gift of rage