Personal Reflection Period

Feather in my hand brings me down to my knees

while I'm down there I'll pretend to pray

crown of blades on my skull, they wont make me bleed

I fix them right, hope they will stay

as the mark of impotence upon my face

letting all know that I have failed

I'll never ask for saving grace

knowledge will win, rationality prevails

in this world of today, technologically literate

underneath our skin runs binary code

clones of our masters, forced by fitting in

to follow the path where rivers have flowed

Walking on the sea? Water to blood?

How can you expect me to believe

That mankind was almost destroyed by a flood

by a god that is love, but does not seem to grieve.

There must be one out there, but not in this dimension

the world is too spoiled, too dirty, too black

to be doted upon with grand intentions

of saving us all, bringing us back

from the brink of destruction by our own hands

from minds best suited for meniality

creations of escape in highest demand

but I dont understand whats wrong with reality

I know I'm a hypocrite; I ran away too

preferring the land of the surreal

but now I'm different, been born anew

without the help of a defective allele.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

questioning stuff. Oh snap!

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