sing

i spent all winter
learning to lip read
at the finest cathedrals,
perched in a pew,
i listened to the prayers
for as long as i could,
collected all the wax
to build an effigy to god
lit it outside your house
when the police took me away
i was up on the cross
i spent all summer
trying to be a better person,
it took me four beatings
to realise my definitions
of morality were too strict,
will you still sing to me?
i spent all my money 
turning my body
into a perfectly woven tapestry
you can finally hang me
under your lectern,
a word of warning that
a loving god cannot be human
you preach, the holy chorus plays,
when this is all over
and i've let you down
and i'm folded up
under your bed
will you still sing to me?
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Author: angus macnaghten

cynical and cyclical, hit me up, ajmacnaghten@hotmail.co.uk

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