#1508

Late at night I used to comfort myself, playing on repeat the same song, prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love, because it made me feel closer to you, like I wasn’t the only weak one and maybe you would love me despite that weakness, but this time it feels like you have left me, have willfully and carelessly broken the fetters with which you bound me to yourselves, and I could fill that holy fount will my blood or tears or heartache and you still would not care, you would not come hold me as I weep because you aren’t those kinds of gods, and I have chosen poorly, haven’t I, to whom I gave my immortal soul?

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