Strangling Divinity

I’ve had enough,
Bile rises in my gullet,
Sick of the false prayers,
Golden cathedrals looming over the serfs,
A mistaken license to look down on others,
All began by him,

Weary of a so-called god,
Held aloft by old gothic spires,
Who is either evil behind a facade,
Offhandedly unwilling,
Or incapable of saving his so-called children,
So wrathful my hands grip his ivory throat,

Lightning licks at my arms,
But I persevere,
No more sermons,
Angelic flames scald my hands,
But they hold fast,
No more decrees,

My hands do not let go,
Until the divine lights leave his eyes,
And his religious larynx is crushed,
The angels and cherubs shriek in lamentation,
And fade into nothingness,
People can hear humanity once again,

We are our own gods now.