I Will Not Bow

Poem, written for the wicked wind contest

I know that you may be the one

that made me who I am. 

But I don't give a damn. 

I know you stand there your arms

wide open waiting to greet me, 

or send me to hell, 

if you don't forgive me. 

However, I refuse to bow my head to you,

I refuse to call you sacred, 

you may have made me, but you may not take me. 

I don't want your pity, nor your pride, 

Don't want your bliss, nor your might, 

I dare you, god of mine,

to send your torrents, 

your storms of fury,

your wicked winds. 

I dare you to rain brimstone and fire, 

but I swear, if you want me to thank you for making me. 

You will get none of that. 

If you want me to praise you, I might praise your intellect, but I will shoot down your heart. 

But if you say you love me, I call you a lying swine. 

So I dare you now to face me, 

your wickedness won't faze me, 

what's wrong? do you fear me?

or are you just not there?

Author's Note

I am an atheist, and this is directed towards the mythological figures that desire to be worshiped and praised.