ARTIFICIAL ICONS

 

crucify me

to rectify me

maybe ill grow new wings to fly far from here

remold into the godess i was inside

before i was forced to make her hide

cold glass

pressed too close against me

this new life

never took the old pain away

so confused

with this filthy mess ive become

when will stop hating myself

for what i couldnt help,

they tell me to pray

but wooden crosses and cold statues never gave me  new start

never took away the pain, never renewed the heart

no laws, only god's laws

hypocritical icon to the weak

nosebleed

plants this seed

in growing hate

and hating youth.