Flames searing me
as your condemnation
marks me as filth,
the cruelty invoked
from memories
of repression of self
and a time when faith
meant belief in a God,
loving and benevolent,
not uncaring,
heedless of a parent's
grief and despair.
Like you, He was harsh
and callous,
demanding innocent lives
be snuffed out,
just as you feel
the creation of beauty
equates to abomination,
that the act of love
is somehow wicked.
I am outcast, unclean,
a leper in your sight.
No comments:
Post a Comment