Maleficent Condescension: Being One I

Everybody raise two digits

To the Man in the sky with me

Maybe if you'd been born a lady

We'd not be every second stuck in time

Momentarily discovering your disavowed hope

In the form of all this tragedy...

Creation Project
Spoken in the hollowed dark
Concerning algorithms of origin
That no longer fearfully matter
Explaining life it torture

Everybody raise two digits

To the Entity in the sky with me

Maybe if you'd been created a lady

We'd not be attempting fix all You've broken

Every hopeful second discovering Your disinterest

For all form of our ongoing tragedy...
Sandcastling as an ocean
Into the earth

Creation Project
Growing in honesty
Painting delicate seed pictures
Concerning algorithms of origin
That no longer fearfully matter
Because explaining life...
Is torture

Everybody raise single digit torn emotion fist
In violence of course unto the Man in the sky with me

Anchoring the concept that maybe if He'd been born a lady

We'd not be eternally attempting to discover a disavowed hope
Contained within the endlessly inhumane planted bombs

Swelling at the apathetic greed ends of our depravity
For in all this is found our continuance
An ocean of tragedy...

Creation disavowed project
Concerning fantasies of origin
That thankfully no longer matter
Because explaining life...
Was making us sick
Killing our perspective
To live compassion in the present
For so long we lived in shallow depths
In vapid pools of disenchanted apathetic greed 
Taught to us by those we're supposed to trust
Loved ones family cancerous members
Now disgust us with their potential
Acquiring illegitimate defences
For the hate they seek

In lieu of our hopeful participation in,
A Sunday without G-d!