Plea, well, sort of . . .
Poetry
All heads bow in the background as "I Never Knew You" plays in the background, a "secular" worship song worshipping true love instead of a jealous God's neediness to be worshipped by humans He had already created billions of years ago. Please, my furry friends, please, hold me. I cannot cry anymore, please help me to cry, to weep again.
"the feeling which I know dies, but why?
Why does the God of sorrows live on?
It's not the reality of truth.
It's the hard truth of film that keeps me moving on.
It's the hope of the feeling of complete redemption
from being born-again that keeps me on this path."
I'm sorry, Steven,
complete, and total, from this unending sorrow which I sorrow from which I feel,
and
where is the exit?
If there is none,
then tell me, now.
Stop teasing me, brain, soul, imagination.
Kill this dream now.
Slaughter this hope forever.
If I kill myself forever, maybe on the 3rd day, I will rise again, and I will become God.
Until then, I am tired, and done.