God in a Box

You put God in a box
And threw away the key
You carved your face on top
And gave that box to me

Be good, be holy
Be righteous, and only
Then will he love you
The problem was, I believed you

Locked away, in the sky
Out of reach, why did I
Try and try and try
So hard to love the god
You said was inside

Now the ghost of your god clings to me
Dirties my thoughts, my sanity
I tried to get rid of him but he follows me
Into the confessional, still chasing me

Each Sunday morning I can’t look at the cross
I weep
Hanging over the alter, He’s found but still lost
To me

Because whenever I do
I can’t help what I think
I hate your god and he hates me
I hate myself for hating god
Will I ever be free?

I can’t look at my God
You stole Him from me
He’s still wearing your face
And that’s all I can see

a note: I wrote this poem almost a year ago. It will bother some, and ring true for others. I’ve come a long way since I wrote it.