Ghazal of Faith

The mother, who bore me, kept me, because of her religion.
I should have liked her more, but didn't, because of her religion.

The Jehova witness at my door, bore faith's fruit in her mind.
So I tongue stuck her ear canal, to get a taste of her religion.

I jumped off a building, with a 1000 rosaries around my neck.
Everywhere below, people stumbled, on the beads of my religion.

Yes the plants grow tall in the bright corner of my room.
And yes, goat fu@k, I chose marijuana over your religion.

I'm overwhelmed with these edibles, vaporizers and bongs.
I think I'm just two hits away, from creating my own religion.

Listen bit@h. I can deal with your dad, your cooking, your sex
change. The one thing I cannot deal with, is your religion.

There are guns, pills, and ex-girlfriends for that kind of thing.
But you know, Mr. Duck!, what makes dying easier, is religion.

like the interesting imagery
teasingbrunette

Hello teasingbrunette, I'm glad you liked the imagery. I appreciate you dropping by,

Duck!