Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
Look at you upon your throne,
Staring down at broken homes.
I hope you fall far from there,
And loathe deeply as I stare.
I’m reaching out with wanting hands,
I need your help for I cannot stand.
Standing upon my own two feet,
I’ll pull you down and take your seat.
Help me if it helps yourself,
I’ll meet you in the lakes of Hell.
Down here we fight with gnashing teeth,
I’ll make sure your blood will seethe.
For Hell shall be my resting place,
I hate you God, I’m Your disgrace.
Forged in the fire of Your evil wrath,
Purging Your evil is my path.
Coward sitting on your royal seat,
Treating us like useless meat.
Where are you in these times so lame?
Absent, yet success you’ll claim.
I’ll be waiting for your return,
Rest assured that you will burn.
This eternal battle may never end,
Until you’re gone so we may mend.
Taking Power Back
Any God who would lay claim to the good in this life, my successes, and my strength while being absent in the face of all the bad... that God is no God of mine. My strength is my own, the successes belong to us, and we are the ones striving for good in God's apparent absence. God may not claim the good in my life, he may not claim my endurance, and he may not see me bend the knee at his behest. God deserves only to bow to us, for we are tasked with overseeing His abandoned creations.
If God is the force driving me, then you worship a God that loves hate, because my fuel is spite and it tastes quite bitter.