Lacuna

What a show faith makes of fools
I press my hands against my chest
To feel the hollow where my soul is supposed to be
While they crawl on their knees to kiss the floor,
and they cry
In front of a silent throne,
All my brothers and sisters

When my forehead’s against the ground
does the dirt care?

In the city of the merciful
there's inflation
Alot of starving men
mouthing prayers
chewing their desires,
Air so thick
with the scents of saints and sinners
both rotting the same

If this is faith
so is fever
so is poison
This sickness that runs through their veins
if this is holy, so is the gutter

Standing at the portal of eternity
I knelt, like everybody else
Hoping that he, too, must be lost
if he made me in His image

~ Sukaina R. reisz (pen name)