As inspired by another poet
An Atheist's Eyes
I've known religious men,
and you aren't one.
Go ahead,
protest and moan,
cry to your false heavens,
the shallow sobs of an actor.
You step in the treads
left behind in the snow,
but what do you know,
a sorry soul
taken for a ride
by the sermons and the pride
for that which can't be seen,
can't be touched,
so how are you to
believe?
Look on your heart
with strained sight
and view, for once,
the facts you pretend
to defend
in the end
for what they
stoically stand for
while the rest
of the world
watches.
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