I haven't got a clue what to call this

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Man, I just have no inspiration anymore. This took me three weeks. Honestly what on earth.

Submitted: August 02, 2015

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Submitted: August 02, 2015

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Today I realised the world is falling apart around me.

When I was born, the doctor told my mama I wouldn't live to pass my third birthday.
Here I am today,
seventeen and wishing I hadn't 
but glad I did. 
When I was a little girl, I wanted to meet God.
I wanted to know what God felt like before it was too late.
God is very good at playing hide and seek. 

My ma and pa had me baptised when I was three,
even then I didn't see the point in having an old man 
pour water over my head.
I never followed their religion.
Maybe that's why dad left. 
In Sunday School, we learned about Eve:
poor, beautiful, sweet Eve.
Why does she get punished for making a mistake?
My friend says my mom made a mistake when she fucked that pool boy that one time.
I learned about the devil when I had my first Religious Education class.
They never told us how he was once a dazzling angel.
Until he fell.
But they did tell us about his crimes.
But not how much he loved his father,
how he adored him, worshipped him.
They told us the truth, but not the whole truth.
A bit like my dad does when I ask about his slut.

There are a lot of demons in the world,
they wear the faces of the ones I love.
And Lucifer, 
whose name means bright star,
morning star.
Who was more human than he was angel.
Who hangs his halo on a hook on the wall every night 
and pours himself a shot of vodka
and turns up the radio to drown out the screams of those who fell with him.
Who has his father's number saved in his cell phone under the name;
"DO NOT LET ME CALL THIS WHEN I'M FUCKED UP!!" 
Seem like Lucifer and I have a lot in common,
does anyone have his email?
I wanna ask if he can get a coffee with me sometime. 

God, 
if you're listening,
I know I'm full of sin.
I know I want to be forgiven,
but let's be real here, who doesn't?)
even though I don't deserve it. 
But where is the difference?
It takes two to start a war. 
I used to lie in bed and touch my xylophone ribs and ask 
if there was any God left in me.
I won't give up the universe for him.
What is the point?
God just ain't listening no more,
did he ever?


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