Eli Eli lama sabachthani

[nightKnight]

Eli Eli lama sabachthani
I've had issues with Father since I was six.
Bored while I'm shown temples, churches and Abbeys,
The lessons I was given made me wish for The Styx,
But instead all I got was the stick.

I'm wrong. An abomination. A shame.
Whilst I am lazy, lazy and ill formed,
My Father in his heydays fed all, fixed all and even healed the lame

But I don't see him much any more.
I ask around. Even those who loved him
Are losing faith in the image they once saw.
I can't say I miss him. Everything was wrong, a Sin.
Noise on a Sunday? Sin. Dancing? Sin. Tattoo? Sin.

Unfortunately I hear about him on the news.
Causing havoc, leading people down dark paths
Gathering more friends, a powder keg with a short fuse.

I think Father died a while ago.
Starvation, rape and murder
Body upon body attracting the worm and the crow
Each war, famine and plague pushing him further.
And he distanced himself farther.

All that is left is a husk, for demons to puppet,
Leaving us with an infection to fight.
I think possibly Nietzsche was right.