Blasphemy

You can burn the world down.
You can cure or cause any disease.
What do you want from me?

You can love us all.
Like a mighty wind or a subtle breeze.
Do you love me?

I was a child in your temples,
Was an infant in your church;
They said you wanted to know me deeply
To free my heart from hurt,
But you've made it worse

Your book is full of promise.
Your book is full of lies,
While theologians compromise.

You condemn our questions,
But you won't say hello
As far as I can know.

I can hear your children crying,
Bleeding out in the dirt;
We only ever wanted to touch you, to know you,
To be free from this hurt,
But you've made it worse.

You've made it worse.

They taught me that you died
To free us from your curse.
They tell me you're alive and well somewhere
As if it shouldn't hurt,
But you've made it worse.

You make it worse.

Your silence makes it worse.

Your judgment makes it worse.

Your people make it worse.

I make it worse.