Ritual Abuse

Religion is waning
Yet self interest still reigns.
Each defines the other,
Whilst the sickness remains.

Repetitive parades,
Generate more terror.
Whilst new profit is made,
Truth's sold off as pleasure.

Loud cries are blanketed,
That the selfish may live,
In a God given state -
Skilfully wrapped in bliss.

Terrified to make peace
They use us as keepers.
We worship their money
Yet end up as weepers.

This is how sin is made,
and why we sheep murmur.
It's why we have parades,
and why we cry terror.
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Not sure where it is, but I was reading a thread about Ritual Abuse in this forum today. I found this poem in my collection of self reflection and thought it would make a good share. If I were to write it again I might alter it somewhat, however find it's still rings true for me over all. Is ok though as I am more accepting of how the world is. As per my journal (yet to be approved) I'm working more on what works as oppressed to what does not. None the less, is good to spell out what lays beneath the peak from where one sits.

I like to think I have moved on somewhat; even if the world has not.

terribly efficient, thank you for sharing