I Hate Church

Disclaimer: this post is totally fictitious, however if you think it’s offensive because it refers to someone or a situation which might apply to you or anyone you know… I’d advice you consider switching worship centres.



I hate church,
I hate everyone that goes to church,
I go to church…
I hate myself.

I hate the hypocrisy,
The whole “I am holy” hullabaloo.
Everyone thinking that they are somewhat better than you.
Behind their masks,
red with the blood of the Messiah
Or is it their own blood?

The insecurities hidden in song,
Doubts sheltered in shaky testimonies.
That evolve with the theme of the day.
Stories that blur the lines of fiction and tiptoe on fact.

I hate the guys I drink with on Friday, chase after skirts with on Saturday.
But look so crisp in their Sunday suits.

I hate the praise and worship leader.
Last time I heard her shout “god” I was with her.
And it wasn’t bible study.
You know she has a tattoo on her lower back?
Hidden by her ankle length black
Dress with the bow,
With a whisper of cleavage to show.

My dealer is in the front row.
I hate him too,
I hate that I have to see him after this.
I need my fix.
I hope he won’t mix, my powder with flour.

I hate the preacher,
He sleeps with his wife’s sister.
Everyone turns a blind eye,
Acts like they don’t know.
But his sins are scarlet,
Red blood on white snow.


I hate that I’m a part of this.
I hate that I fell into the abyss.
The black hole of this religion, this sad cycle.
I hate it!
I hate them!
I hate this!
I hate me!


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