Unholy

My cleric’s collar starts to sting a raw, red rash that won’t abate when world news of horrors bring send thoughts and prayers and meditate There is no accident, no chance the predetermined outcomes state a child dies by circumstance those desperate prayers won’t alter Fate The prophets false in word and deed are fed by fear and groomed by hate corruption absolute decreed blind the sheep and celebrate This collar now asphyxiates I think it’s time to separate.