My character is threatened every second I am dying,
I'm working on a holistic cure that's ontologically impure;
Involving every thread of moral fiber that gravity's defying,
Unraveling the faithless dichotomy only heretics can endure.
Rightly dividing my time, searching for the daily threat of death,
Decorated with violent irony, like a priest that rapes his nuns;
My soul the unwilling victim, the priest my confident breath ...
The demons are running out of fingers to point and they're pulling out their guns.
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