Never ending life in the pages,
Of some fairytale, of a fiction,
Where good men are winners,
And characters have emotions.
Split up into sixty-four stages,
Of his own immortal depiction,
As he conquers all the sinners,
Cures the sick, and parts oceans,
Later convincing you it’s based,
Solely on truth, not on folktale,
And have faith in every parable,
Otherwise be condemned to hell.
A friend of Jesus is two-faced,
Then named a saint we must hail.
As long as a thief is charitable,
We must pardon his sins as well.
Only ten loosely interpeted laws,
Are used to determine the fate,
Of mankind, before a judgement,
Determines who sinned the least.
We are all confined in the walls,
Of instilled fear, instilled hate,
Where common sense is absent,
And all intelligent life ceased.
It is a book that makes the sane,
Go out of their mind as they try,
To follow in the footsteps of,
Heroes who weren’t even real.
Gluttony labels all personal gain,
The bad men live, good men die,
The world is not filled with love,
These issues a book cannot heal.