Call it blasphemy and turn me to a pillar of salt. Drown me in sorrow, flood my heart, after all I have no one to board the arc with. Keep your riddled prophesies that speak of promised lands for chosen ones cause the one I chose no longer chooses me.
Give Cupid a sling shot because his arrows never hit the right targets, even when aiming for giants, he comes short and leads broken hearts to grinders and rushes to blow away what remains, so there can be no Lazarus resurrection of any feelings.
Save on inks reserved for scribes to record revelations of gloomy dooms awaiting my love story. Let not my ears hear promises of it’s okay and it works out in the end. Let not my heart listen to other souls lost in religion.
I’m done with all this. Just do away with it.
You know what
Keep Your Faith.