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Dear Jesus
  Dear Jesus, I’ve been hearing strange tales lately
  about how you’re a myth
  Is it true? Are you just a feigned soul present only in an invalid tome?
  And I’ve been thinking lately about the holy scripture and its words
  and if Leviticus says that gays are an abomination to mankind
  then what do you think of my brother, whom I love more than I can say?
  and if Timothy says that a woman cannot exercise her authority over a man,
  then what will happen to my sister, who speaks in a volume louder than my father?
  Is it true? The rumors I hear of you?
  What if we’re all dead, and there’s nothing beneath us but cold, hard dirt
  and nothing above us but the mechanical sky and its chemical matter?
  I’ve been wondering lately about me and my sins
  and how I f***ed up life pretty badly
  but does it even matter if I sin
  if my soul is empty and I feel unhappy?
  And what about my parents and my friends?
  Do they burn in hell as well?
  What will happen to my aunt who prays for another faith
  and my cousin who is too young to understand
  the beauty of the sacred divinity?
  Oh sweet Jesus,
  you are of the highest vintage
  but everytime I reach out for you and beg for your presence
  I am left with unanswered questions
  I wonder if you are watching me right now
  What would you think of me?
  And what would you say if I told you
  my sister is an unwed mother?
  Jesus, Jesus,
  the blessed text boasts of your sweet reprisals
  and how your men of chivalry are sent to heaven,
  for they have hearts of pure white,
  but since mine’s is a dusky black
  will I be tarred for my dark acts?
  What about my father?
  For he is a good man, but since he doesn’t believe,
  will he be cast in eternal gloom?
  And as the line of sinners grows
  the population of their offspring augments
  If the sinners go to hell,
  will their children burn as well?
  Jesus, Jesus,
  if the heathens are faithless machines
  will you forgive them if they’re kind?
  Dear Jesus
  if I pray before bed every day
  then why do I feel so aggrieved?
  And if I tell you at night about how amazing you are
  then why do I complain about you every day?
  Oh sweet Jesus,
  If I truly do believe
  then why do I think you can be so damn mean?
  And if I think about all your unsavory vanities and underlying scars,
  why do the baptized rant about your absolute perfection?
  Dear Jesus,
  I’m still searching for answers
  and maybe one day we can meet up
  and discuss things over brunch
  then maybe my heart would feel complete
  but I’ve been waiting for a long time now
  and I still walk the streets with a doubtful soul and a hollow heart.

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