by Anna Sheehan
She’ll be shouting out that same shite about God again,
I’ll bet ya anything.
Preaching about those old wans from that book-
The Bible I think it’s called.
The one where God is the Raven,
And he only knocks when it’s time.
She takes pleasure in cursing me as a non-believer,
But lady, don’t you ask me to face a hopeful life
I’m what they call a Poe-ho-
Want to hear my tale-filled heart?
Your angels wouldn’t sit well with my demons-
And I don’t think they’d like me much.
Nobody’s watching me from above-
Sure, that’s an invasion of privacy, right?
It’s too dark in here-
Get away with that blinding light.
I’m not crazy, and I’d beg you to believe me,
But I don’t like being told what to think either.
I too have heard all things in heaven and hell-
And perhaps even more in heaven.
Maybe I’m jealous of her,
But hell, I’ve got faith too!
It’s easier to focus on the dark stuff.
Maybe you’ll believe that?