Issue 6 - November2020
Father Won’t Save Me By Madelyn Larkin
You told me that christianity Was so wholesome, and so pure Would save me from any danger Told me it was world’s greatest cure You told me that christianity Meant loving unconditionally You told me it meant forgiveness. But when I came out as queer You made me read bible verses With eyes full of tears Yelling at me as I laid on your bed When I came to you With a torn up arm and a head Full of guilt You yelled in my face, Praying. Casting the demons out of me. The demons that made me hate myself That made me hate myself so strongly So strongly that I wanted to hurt myself So strongly that I was willing to die To be born as someone else Who didn’t have these two broken fathers Who whipped my heart with belts. You never let me take blame For any of my own mistakes Said it was the devil’s doing So I never learned shame
1
Until it built its way up my throat Resulting in endless cries of self-hate You ask me how I got this way It’s because of the perfect daughter you illustrate In your mind and in your spoken word A girl with no independence A girl who wants to be in a kitchen A girl who covers up every inch Of her Ugly, sinful body. You made religion an excuse To hurt others around you And still feel morally just You made religion a dagger That hangs over my head. Who the fuck can I trust? You made religion a reason To hate everything about me Everything about everyone Who isn’t just like you. I want to be saved, father. I really, truly do. But how can I trust a god If I can’t even trust you? The man who made me The man who raised me I see you in the light And all I see is a control freak You tell me I’m going to hell I Guess I’ll see you there I feel like I’m already in hell Each day is a living nightmare
