There was a time
That I believed.
I thought
You would forgive,
I knew
You would forget
Just not in this sense.
You never did forgive me.
I was a child, Sir
But you did forget me.
You deserted a child, Sir

And faith,
I am told,
Is my saviour.
I am told,
Brings good things
But, Sir, I wasn't told
That sins were forbidden.
Not until too late
Was I informed.

And how bad of me, Sir!
How terribly naughty.
To think
When not told.
How awful for a child
To lose faith
In the stories of old.
And they were, at that.
Just stories and fairytales
Of a man and his son,
Who were better than me.

And existence
Is debated;
For where is proof,
Of this holiest of holies?
Of this heavenly being?
Of faith and belief?
And what shall you say
To the nay Sayers?
How will they be punished?
How will I be punished?

Truth, sir.
Honesty, please.
What has faith gotten me,
Other than emptiness
And scars?
I'm sure is says somewhere
In your book of words
That children are sacred and innocent.
So why do I feel

There was a time
That I believed
But years have tempered
My faith.
But I have proof
Of my beliefs.
These scars do not fade.
So Holiest of Holies,
What say you, to this nay sayer?
To this child who you deserted?

I wait, sir,
For punishment
To be doled out.
But I doubt
That you hear me.
Have I payed my price, yet?
Is no faith
Not punishment enough?
Is it sad that your retribution
Cannot hurt like your desertion?
Like you hurt this child?

All these words
And all these thoughts
And all these accusations
That I have brought
Come down
To the result of years
Of corrasion
And weathering
The result of your abandonment
Of this child born to God.

And all my frustration
For this entire situation
And all the things
That you didn't do
Have festered into
One phrase.
Now uttered
More like a prayer
And is better testament to my faith
Than any poetic words
I said for you.

There was a time, Sir
When I believed in you.