Everytime I hear those words, I cringe.
Believe like me, he says.
'Tis the only way to be.

Believe what you must, I say.
But don't expect the same from me.

It grips you before you can escape,
Laughing, twirling its coiling fingers around your brain.
There is no escape.

Believe as you will, but force it not upon me.

Can any of us truly escape its torturous wrath?
Society's imprints, religion's imprints, philisophical imprints, political

Perhaps not.

So are we then a world of cookie cut outs?
The utopia of the bland and synchronous?
Does such a utopia exist?
And should it?

Believe what you will
But judge me not for believing what I will.
To each his own.
But how does one stomach such a latent prejudice?
How in the name of the Prophets, the Gods, the God, the...

The what?

Believe what you will.
And I will do the same.
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