We are all prisoners of possibility
It houses us within crumbling walls
And thick bars
Our laughter crawls through the bars
And the cracks in the walls
Religion says we are born sinners
Evildoers born to spend a lifetime
In pursuit redemption
Living only to find a space in the arms of the lord
Though, made in his image, that space should be reserved
Am I a sinner if I do not subscribe to the rules and rituals of men
Who have spent multiple centuries building a reality I do not understand?
These are the thoughts that dance with me in moments of internal silence
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