Christianity has become a delusion.
Row on row we all sit patiently watching,
The telling of yet another redemption story.
While inside,
Parts of us fall away and die,
Like old leaves,
in the hot white light.
We wonder why the smiles do not ease the pain.
Or if they ever did.
But we keep going back.
To that same dry well.
Smart dress,
All's well.
Cliche,
Cherry blossom cheeks
Even paint begins to fade.
And there is nothing.
Nothing.
That can be done.
Until?