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Pessimus Retsae
19 May, 2008
Author: Puppet

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Step over step and pew by pew
Through cavernous shine, old yet new
Time-tired words wash piston pegs
And drink thought down into the dregs.
Up high is a man, or is he not?
Grey torn tulle and godly rot;
He grips my hand but won’t let go
Until I cede the soul I owe.

------- Author's Notes -------

Cynical? Yeah, but I DO have problems with religion. But that's just me (to each his own, right?)

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