You think what you have to offer me is love, but I'm not so certain.
"Here," you say,
"Here is freedom from the horrible illness
That is all your imperfections and foibles
Because that's what your true nature is:
It's your faults and guilt
your shame and dark lusts.
And here is a list we compiled
of traits and acts you didn't know were sins
and all these things will sentence you to an eternity of torment.
Aren't you glad we told you?
Because someone has come to save you from yourself,
from the destiny you deserve.
He has had mercy on your fallen nature
and if you believe in His Son
and abide by the words of this book
as we interpret them
you will be saved."
"But you're not listening!" I protest.
"But I love you," you say.
"You don't believe my story!"
"But I love you."
"You're not trying to understand!"
"But I love you."
In that moment
I realized your definition of love
is that an offer of salvation is always on the table
when I choose to see things god's(your) way.
Until then
I'm not only wrong
I'm depraved and damned
And you're under no obligation to pay attention
to what anyone who contradicts the story you believe
has to say.
You've plugged your ears
with your holy words
and your eyes can't see past
the small print.
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