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Downtrodden and Disheartened

Sometimes faith is like a bitch
and her two sisters—
always gnawing at the pretty parts—
consuming all that’s precious and pure—
creating unending vacuums
of distress, dismay and discomfort—ever appearing, in waves, flooding forth and never ceding—
where vision quests of venomous agony rage, through
disheartened veins until sedation builds her nest deep inside

Matriculating thoroughly,
unyielding—it’s like a transformation
of lambs into frenzied beasts; doves
into vultures—
feeding on the disappointment
causally inherent when a reason to be, becomes the reason to doubt and question

However dark the marrow paints, the chamber walls, retain fluidity, we must, never allow our entireties to rot into transparent corpuscles devouring from within—we must make our numb demeanors pliable once more—and then without realizing how or when, gluttonous sadists we shall return to being again—after all, it’s all we know; it’s all we’ve ever been
The choices that are made, the unanswered prayers of pleaders and begging serfs, combine, and shape, a discontent, a contemptible paranoia—
Where how-could’s and why’s, grow paramount in the minds of the jilted and betrayed—
As they watch the brutal, perfidious and demonic climb the scaffoldings of life with such reality, they have ample time and opportunity to overlook your despair, feeding from your every tinge—and in such moments, you can do nothing but question, to the point you convince yourself, this ascending creature of perdition, has indeed exchanged winks with he who has many names…How could an innocent be sacrificed to allow sinners the freedom of beloved life?

Why are the believers most easily condemned? How is at that you’ve allowed the best of us, to simply become stairwells to the impure?

When will prayers be answered respectfully, instead they are honored, seemingly ever in inverse fashion alone? It is at such points your mettle is tested, and for the greater part of a lifetime logic and rationale would understand faith cannot be proved, it is, because you know it is—But I beg you not to ask me such opinions on days such as this one—at such a time— for I fear those answers I might share…

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About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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