The Atheist's Prayer Underneath the cross of Jesus, I'm never far from hate. Underneath the shadow of his malice, I am a prisoner of the faith. The burning of hells flames constrict, my acceptance of the truth. There is no god, there never was, but my soul is to torn to choose. Though I pray for mine eyes to see, He refuses to heed my cry. Though I give my heart to him He waits with glee for my demise. As the struggle carries on, The hate is turned on him. In the darkness of my heart the flock must see it grim. But fear not that I have strayed, My Spirit is far from sin. No longer do I stand a listless man a slave to the wicked Dīn.* I've crossed the valley far from ignorance of men. My eyes are open, the truth before me and I am freed from him. *Arabic term for religion/way of life
There are thousands of poems about people who have "found God" through variable means, but few about actually "being freed" from him. In that, your poem is rather unique. I dig the metaphors as well. This piece stands strong, and I'm glad you decided to post it regardless of its nature.
