Your father who art in Heaven,
A darling invention, turned rife with infection.
Once pure an ideal, intent to give hope,
Then came the noose made able with rope.
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A contrary construct though intent was divine,
The scripted cartographer of the uncharted mind.
Distortion enabled for corporate gain,
What once defined love, deals in nothing but pain.
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I offer respect absent reciprocation,
Holding my tongue whilst subject to propagation.
I could force unto you my views; lead me not into temptation…
I’ve paid my dues, and withheld my frustration.
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Go ahead; rise to judge me with supposed damnation
Though only minds that are free attain truth and salvation!
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