Alive

I am subcumming to this dark void, I stoped worshipping but not believing and that should count for something. Father? Are you really out there? The ugly hands that you gave me blotched with ink from writing Poetry, my throat sore from singing with that angel's voice from whom I stole it from. I fall on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, and I know that I am commiting a sin in your eyes for who I might fall in love with, and when the sun sets for me, and Im engulfed into that eternal darkness I'll think back and realize that I dont regret any shit that I've ever done, or any girls-slash-boys I've ever loved. Because you God, you my loving father created us to live and to tell you the truth that's all I ever did.