Heartbeats like lonely fists,
Knocking on countless doors,
Searching for a vain love, or a dim light,
For we refuse to receive what our flesh abhors.
Even in our selfishness, we find rest,
But love is vitality. Without it,
We act like angry children,
Taken suddenly from the breast.
I’m sick of this world and all its attitudes,
It’ll never change, never choose the truth,
So I’ll rise away from all its platitudes,
To the God they thought lacked proof.