Religion

A poem about my religious beliefs

What is a man once he loses his soul,
is it real to stand and look right at the bull,
of life, of death, of f*****g liberty,
why can't the stories all be about me,
my life mein kampf my disbelief,
the breath i took before my sigh of relief,
because god is not real,
just something to make you feel,
better about what you do and say,
he grants you forgiveness then you walk away,
from the path from the life,
and end up in with a story and a lot of strife,
but who is there for you,
it's not god it's the delicate few,
who love you and what you are,
whether you are near or far,
they won't let you down,
they don't wear a floating crown,
their the realistic people who stand by,
and who will bury you when you die,
your soul will disappear,
but you have nothing to fear,
because souls don't exist from begining to end,
people just wanna pretend,
that when they do something bad,
there's a tally inside from when they were a lad,
o make up for the bad and reward the good,
as if someone cared or as if you could,
override the bad with new things you do,
but it'll never happen i know this true,
there is no god, no holy spirit,
just your own life you have to try to fit,
all those times you ran,
and thought to yourself what makes a man?