Baptist Cult-ure

A little late night PTSD poetry:

Baptist Cult-ure
by Pooky

My voice, my light,
It’s your kryptonite.
You love the dark,
You love your privacy.
Tell them not to gossip,
Don’t destroy unity,
One-on-one meetings,
“Follow Matthew 18.”
Your deceit, your game
As you manipulated me,
Gave you power and fame,
But it was just perceived.

Once the blinders fell,
You lost your hold.
I will never submit.
I will ever be bold.
There is no mediator
Between God and me,
Except Jesus Christ,
Not even The Geek.
I stand on my own,
I take responsibility
For all that I say
And for all I will be.

Go back to your pit
With your brainwashed zombies.
I’ll tell them the truth,
And they’ll be free like me!

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