my whole life
i've grown up in a
strictly religious town,
the bible belt, as some call it,
and being the odd one
who stopped praying
and going to church every Sunday
does not do me any good
when everyone that surrounds me
says that i need to devote my life to christ.

i always prayed with
my mother before bed,
we prayed for her and dad,
me and my brother,
for even for our animals
to be safe, happy and healthy

eventually mom and dad divorced,
eventually the dogs died,
but i stayed happy,
so i always believed that
there was god,
because "he kept me happy,
that's one of the things i prayed for
every night"

the first time i can remember
praying by myself,
for myself,
was when i was eight years old.

i prayed that i would stay happy,
that my family stayed happy,
that's all i wanted

sometimes,
we don't always get what we want,
and, unfortunately,
that didn't happen,
because for a while, my family was broken,
as much as i hated to consider it

whenever it finally registered
that not everyone was happy,
i became skeptical,
but any time i was upset,
i was often told to pray,
for things to be better,
for things to be okay.

but often, whenever i prayed,
no matter how much i prayed,
not everything worked out

i was always told "it's god's plan",
but, eventually,
i started to wonder,
because what is god's plan
whenever people get murdered,
or when children become kidnapped,
or for the people who become depressed
and commit?

what is their plan?

eventually i realized
that god won't do anything,
because every night i'm told to pray,
but often it never works,
and when it does it feels
like a mere coincidence

eventually i realized
that if i really want something badly,
no god would do it for me,
i would have to do it myself.

at thirteen,
i told my mom im an atheist.

she couldn't even look at me,
she blamed my dad and stepmom,
she thought it was a phase,
that one day i would turn back to god,
that i was just being influenced,
but i have yet to tell her
how much, how often i used to pray

how i prayed for dad to be happy,
and he became depressed,
how i prayed for our family
to be okay,
and my parents split,
how i prayed that i would be happy,
and, at some point, that ended too

believing in god
didn't do anything for me
other than give me
false hope.


[note: this poem was not written as hate towards Christianity, nor any other religion. this is a poem i wrote about my personal experiences]

© sam