I don't want to feel

Because I don't want to think ill

of you, who casually kill 

My soul, for your own thrill


I don't  want you to steal 

What little joy, I try to hold

Because to me it's like gold.

Even though to you it should be disposed. 


I refuse to kneel, 

To you as my master 

When you're just supposed to be like a pastor

Yet, all you shepherd within me is anger


So forgive me, for putting up a veel

As if I don't feel 

All your cold hard steel

Knives, meant for veal


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