Since I was to the left of center,
Believing god did not exist,
The sign proclaimed I could not enter
Because I’d be on His shit list.
I asked for proof of “His” existence
And met abuse and foul resistance.
This was the house of God , they said,
As I’d find out when I was dead.
But isn’t that the way of churches-
You live your life for its encore
The other side of your death’s door
And can’t return from your researches
Reporting on your status quo
Which helps a church with its cash flow.
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