To the Poets

See now the strong-hearted

from Faith, rudely departed

For, they say, if God is real,

what then is the pain that we feel?

And with aching backs they sow

the gritty seeds of their own woe.

So in the guise of poetry

they artfully tend their misery.

With their pens, they devise

their own set of exquisite lies

and pleading for some god in their despair

ignore the God already there.

– Padfoot

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