not for sentimentalists

this place was a shelter 
yet they chased me out 
for my god is blue, and my prayer unfamiliar. 

They said I took my life and
hanged it on a rack; now absorbed in song 
and dance, what seems to them a squander of my life. 

The woman gone mad; 
and a failed attempt to save me and bring me back 
to an anamorphic happiness. 
Thank you, but no. 

not knowing that I began to find myself, 
to them I am lost. 

To love god is not for sentimentalists;
for those who talk of light 
and of nebulous miracles - 

You bore me to death. 





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