The type that gather a huge list
and that which carries so little.
The type with lips that mention him
and those who cry while looking up.
Days that move well, driving with him,
days that the door will not open
The way I chose is goodwill,
yours have words that are pitiful
Some are hard like clouds with no rain
some are just confrontational
Some days I talk like I’m a thief
My words come out like ritualists
Some days I am the true Christian,
My intentions are fraudulent.