pious

 
in deepness wept, with much misunderstanding
the darkness beckon
and I used it as a mere weapon
not understanding, its intent

the world is not as it seems we have ancient texts by which we follow
and are thusly enslaved
by means there are civilations old, who follow different sects of thinking
working in the background here

I choose to believe there are still cracks by which the abyss is seen
by the very words it hangs us on it show its fangs
who am I to judge, no one
but opinions are formed
and reactions are noted
hurting the sensibliities of my dark breatheren


it is a strange thing, that my misery has become a divine food
choosing to take pity on humanity
seen as weak and easy pickings by their thinking
whose desires shall we say run into the extreme

warm to each other, but so very cold to one who differs
there is however, a current about who lays witness to the need of the whole
do we not also depend on them no matter the age of our race

it is a heavy handed judgement, they recieve and for that thought alone
I will be heavily reprimanded
it is the hunger games...heaven
where some pets will be adored

the others will be given no food
seeing rest and never entering
never having a chance by virtue of design
and by precise traumas happening early on

we are pious, not merciful, by god