I do not like this place.

I don’t belong here,

the stench of death pervades,

yet outside the sun beats down,

hotter than the promised hell.

I do not like this place.

Relics of a bygone day,

guilt and blame pave the way,

to salvation,

but only if you are too weak.

Enough, to believe as

fear holds tight,

demanding allegiance,

to blame and sin;

dragged screaming from within,

without compassion,

or mercy,

for the weak –

End.

I do not like this place,

I do not belong here,

for the stench of death,

offends my soul.

 

© I do not belong here 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm