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Poem’s origin: The thought of being in church, subconsciously questioning my former Christian faith, and openly objecting to tithing. In the end, I put my intuition aside for the sake of “faith” and “his will”.

 

Dreaming of a fictional reality.
Amen to everything the pulpit preach to me.
Feelings of conflict is everything I keep in me.
Tedious frienemies now part of the scenery.
Blank grins and crows feet hide subtle mumbles
Surrounded by a god who don’t look like me for nothing.
The passion that I feel blowing out from all our lungs,
Tears of a beaten slave rolling down every song.
Working til we bleed and fight through every single week.
Daughter got a baby and jr out in the streets.
Daddy stuck at work, soon as he off he drink.
Got to keep on the lights and water in the sink.
The kids in private school: for what? An education?
A recession and inflation hold hands and sweep the nation.
Jr turning 16 so now he want a ride,
But you ain’t a good Christian if you don’t pay your tithes.
What pastor gone drive?
Will grandma survive?
Her bills still ain’t paid,
She still paid them tithes.
Don’t say that you can’t,
god will make a way.
Just remember to pay,
Have faith, and see you in 7 days.