by Anna Sheehan
She鈥檒l be shouting out that same shite about God again,
I鈥檒l bet ya anything.
Preaching about those old wans from that book-
The Bible I think it鈥檚 called.
The one where God is the Raven,
And he only knocks when it鈥檚 time.
She takes pleasure in cursing me as a non-believer,
But lady, don鈥檛 you ask me to face a hopeful life
I鈥檓 what they call a Poe-ho-
Want to hear my tale-filled heart?
Your angels wouldn鈥檛 sit well with my demons-
And I don鈥檛 think they鈥檇 like me much.
Nobody鈥檚 watching me from above-
Sure, that鈥檚 an invasion of privacy, right?
It鈥檚 too dark in here-
Get away with that blinding light.
I鈥檓 not crazy, and I鈥檇 beg you to believe me,
But I don鈥檛 like being told what to think either.
I too have heard all things in heaven and hell-
And perhaps even more in heaven.
Maybe I鈥檓 jealous of her,
But hell, I鈥檝e got faith too!
It鈥檚 easier to focus on the dark stuff.
Maybe you鈥檒l believe that?
Quarryman
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