This is a short poem about finding true religion.
Should I believe in saints and spirits
no matter what I see?
Well consequences make me speak
of how he touches me.
Penalties do tempt me,
to acknowledge past transgressions
and fear has lead to piousness,
then finding some religion.
I also know that faith is wrought
with those who wield belief,
as a weapon slowly taught
to manifest through grief.
Should I abide my deepest vows
despite the present state?
Our take on modern altruism,
most mother’s would debate.
Inside The Book, can I still find
a path to our redemption;
or are the Scriptures simply just,
a fanciful collection?
Today I pray the answers find
a way into the heart
and hope the holy, if not all men,
see queries as a start.