Dear God,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that when you look down at me, you and the angels cry. I’m sorry that you’re angry. I’m sorry I murdered love in day light with my bare hands. I’m sorry you have to hear your children cry every night, I’m sorry you have to hear screams of pain from every corner and section of the earth.

I’m sorry that we don’t care about each other anymore. I’m sorry I smell like blood, unjustified, innocent. I’m sorry that it is now easier to pull out a gun on a person than it is to smile on the streets. I’m sorry there are no smiles on the streets, I’m sorry there are no smiles.

I’m sorry boys and girls don’t get along and women and men don’t get along. I’m sorry we hate each other and hate ourselves more. I’m sorry she will take a shower this evening, and another shower and another shower and another shower, she knows yet she still showers as if she can scrub away the hatred. I’m sorry he feels trapped. I’m sorry she has no choice, I’m sorry he has no voice.

I’m sorry we are desperate. I’m sorry we try to find answers at the bottom of the bottle, I’m sorry we try to find answers within each other then curse you when we find emptiness.

I’m sorry I put truth on the electric chair and terrorized hope in the name of answers.

I’m sorry you have to watch her beat the life out of the child you spent 9 months preparing, I’m sorry you have to hear how tormented her soul is. I’m sorry you have to hear the way we speak to each other, I’m sorry you have to see what we think, I’m sorry that whenever we open our mouths, darkness pours out. Darkness and the bitter, rotting stench of the cruel words we speak.

I’m sorry I celebrate hate. I’m sorry I married lust. I’m sorry we lie to ourselves by telling ourselves that evil is only the scary monsters in movies who want to take over the world when we fully know ourselves that evil is placing “tobacco kills” on cigarette packets yet still selling them, evil is looking at a girl, your sister and deciding that the words coming out of her mouth no longer matter, looking at her, selling your head for head.

I’m sorry we believe wickedness is for witches, witches with green skins and long noses when we know that wickedness is picking out a flaw of a person and sneering coincidentally or consciously when they walk by, wickedness is laying with another person knowing fully well someone else is waiting for you.

I’m sorry for the gunshots, I’m sorry for the bombs, I’m sorry for the screams, the broken homes and broken walls and broken glass and broken houses and broken lives, I’m sorry for the noise it made.

I’m sorry we whispered about innocence as it walked past us, and then ganged up and beat it.

I’m sorry I no longer wish to speak to my mother and she no longer wants to speak to me. I’m sorry my father disapproves of him because he is one of the “others”, I’m sorry my father wishes I marry an old man because tradition is more important morality. I am sorry I will marry old money, I mean man.

I am sorry I am not what I was cut out to be.

I am sorry I will forget I was ever sorry.

I’m sorry.

-The world.


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