Almost Christian in a not so almost hell

This poem may hurt.

It may make you want to cover your ears

And you might as well close your eyes

Because you’ve already closed your heart and mind

It’s amazing how comfortable you are in your masks

For some of you it’s light because you’ve eaten away all of the you that used to fill it

You’re now just an echo in a shell
You are a snow machine hooked up to a beeping lie detector

Some of you can hardly carry your mask

But you insist on pushing it in front of you like a Grand Piano playing a tune you wish you spoke

This is for you social drinkers

You one time smokers

You just a kiss turning all-nighters

You who make out in tinted windows

You who blame it on the alcohol

You barely survivors

You who speak at your parents

You who don’t speak at all

You electric smilers

You hypnotizers; Womanizers

You aborters

You thieves and robbers

You joke-too-far-ers

You liars

You lusters

You over-trusters

You who cheat on homework but not tests

You who cheat on multiple choice but never short answers

You gamblers

You judgers

You hypocrites

You insulters

You who step on other's backs to keep your head afloat

You who don’t give a flying fuck

You attention whores

You gossipers

You pillow talkers

You one-nighters

You people over God-ers

You blasphemers

You self-servers

You who raise your hands because you like being looked at

You who cry so people will give you a hug

You gorgers of selfishness

This is for you.

Mr. or Ms. First Priority

God

He looks around

He can’t help but ask, “Where is everybody”

Where are the altar prayers?

The scar free prayer warriors?

Where are the Amen-ers?

The hand raisers?

The Jesus shouters?

The VBS-ers?

The church dinners?

And he looks down from his throne fashioned of grace

Into a pit he intended for fallen angels

He will find you there

Confused and thirsty

Gnashing your teeth

He will see you Oh Almost Christians

And almost wonder if His way was too narrow

As you wish you were in an almost hell

He will remember calling you

Remember knocking on the door of your heart

Having the key but not barging in

He can still feel what stone your heart is made of

He remembers your memorized prayers

Your go-with-the-crowd lifestyle

Your “I am God” attitude

Your lack of real belief

How you tried to cover his creation

How you failed to create your own

A tear falls

But it evaporates just before your parched mouth

You were soldiers without scars and this is your share of hell.