Pain staring
Through stained glass eyes
Resting on a world that I despise


I feel the heat of my hatred,
Self worth incinerated
Charred by thoughts gone bad.


Disciples lost,
Like sheep, to the wolves.
Fed to the dogs
In gilded bowls.


Abused and used,
Enslaved to the gods
And lies they gave.
In a grave they made.


So I last and I stare
In a prison of their worship
Where they sit and they dare
To ask for forgivness.