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You think you understand my pain. While the world is rotting from the inside, you keep repainting the surface with bright colours; thinking this time it's going to be different; convinced that what you're doing is bestowing the world with salvation. You, dear ladies and gentleman, promote exclusion in an already exclusive world. Look at us; we do little besides turning ourselves into a dissection of stereotypes that thrive on discriminating one another. It sickens me. I'd spit at the whole world if I could, I'd spit into each one of your goddamn faces. You seek clarity in all the wrong places; your spirits are tainted with grief. You build meaningless tributes to God, seeking guidance and protection, while the only place you can find it is within yourselves. Your hearts turn into pounding fists that hammer at the gates of heaven. Your lives are damp with fatigue, yet your arms continue stretching into the sky, praising. How much I despise you and oh how much I envy your ability to have faith in this forlorn world.