This dreadful forever accumulating air, stifles us
slowly
As we trudge through these desolate pews and broken isles
Filled with dreadful creatures and dark monsters,
That would haunt your favorite nightmares;
They appear, not in the literal sense
But now with masks and a new flesh on
To shroud their
worlds of lies.
They speak in tongues of fire, yet not to our
Father,
But to the other monsters, scarecrows and each other
To see who has
gotten the best at it.
They abandon every word you say,
In hopes that
their fancy words
And good
intentions can buy their ticket into the afterlife.
These unholy clouds block us consistently,
Dismantling our
view of promised lands
And though we struggle,
We are promised to make it past this desert one
day;
Hopefully soon, before my mask starts peeling off as well.