A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.


Are you startled by the angry prophet?

To whom you heeded not?

The storms she saw were coming

Swept away her childhood lots.


Are you frightened by her fury?

That which started out as cry?

She begged and pleaded, warning

But you faced coldly to the side.


Are you frozen in some terror?

Frigid shards of her duress?

You’ve turned brittle, bound to shatter

In a lucky, awkward mess.


Are you surprised she’s smiling?

Does she seem a little mad?

For you tell her of your sorrow

And she acts as if she’s glad.


Are you ready now to listen?

Will she still tell you the Truth?

She trusted you before, you know

And you stole away her youth.


Can you hold her hands though shaky,

As she grieves all that she’s lost?

This was your hopeful prophet

Now she’s counted every cost.

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