A God’s Entitlement
Anonymous

I want them to
prostrate at my feet.
Hands clutched,
clawing,
at the ground beneath me.

I want their knees to be
scraped raw;
bloodied in their violent worship.

I want to kill someone,
and watch their faces
bleed with
awe

These poems were written in random moments, without the intention of ever being shared. It’s frightening to have something you cherish be ridiculed, yet even more so for it to be forgotten. So maybe the author is doing themselves a favour, and maybe they’ll regret it, but they write these poems to be remembered so maybe they can write them to be shared.