I've loved you at arms length since I was eleven
but that's never mattered because I'm not going to heaven
it breaks your heart, the fact that so many people like me
have this affinity for suffering in some promised eternity
heard of, but never known
I'm sorry I need to touch the love that I'll call home
I'm sorry I'm frightened and need security
or at least the knowledge that if I fall, someone will catch me
and not call me out for every time I didn't believe it
I won't call what happens after death take it or leave it
I know you want to see the world as rippled by God's hands
or as a series of messages that we can't understand
but while all you see is Him, His Glory, and His Eminence,
the dirt and sand between my palms speaks only of his absence
and that's the saddest part, we see the same picture
though mine's run by making sense, and not run by scripture
because the only rules more solid than the ones written on stone
brought down from the highest mountains are the ones we call our own
but your rules are different, and sadly make you choose
between who will be there until you die, and who is coming with you
don't make me sit beside you with sweaty palms to tell
that no matter what you or I feel, my doubt is dragging me to hell.
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