An Atheist's Confessional

Dear God/Jehovah/Allah/Whatever else Your name may be:

Slews of sacrilege accusations are headed towards me,
Jews and Catholics, their improvisations are orderly,
More than me is those who would never bother writing You,
Excuse me if I'm not convinced by those convinced of sights of You,
They see life in You, enticed in You,
Seeking solace 'bout what cold nights could do,
But they want the heat, You want belief,
They give belief, You give them grief,
I speak my speech, my so-called social right,
I think "If He could reach my lonely antisocial mind
Then maybe time would cease when my rhymes release,
A piece of peace", I'm told to see the priest,
They destructed my poise, so I erupt with my voice:
"HOW THE HELL CAN I TRUST A MOLESTER OF LITTLE BOYS?!"
And they're all prevalent, so You're equivalent
Is my intelligence, but they call me frivolous,
Villainous, an atheist,
They're hating this, they pray for this,
Pace themselves to one day move away from this,
Excuse my state, I'm pissed,
You can't relate to this,
Your benevolence irrelevant to what I make from this
And what You gonna take from this?
Is it religious or social that I'm taught to be honest and,
If I work hard why should my Ethic be Protestant? *
I preach that it's a term to impeach,
But in the same vein as my speech,
I'd like to breach the belief that free will was granted by You,
Teach the seeds to visualize their minds as a beach, not a bayou,
A shame You never came to our plane,
What's the deal?
Would you be overwhelmed by our realm?
Are the fires too hot for you to delve into OUR Hell?
Corporations made the prison of religion a business and it sells,
How do You expect direction with our affection for controlling the helm?
Now if I was agnostic, I would not get
As worked up as I am about all of this,
But humanity has called for this,
We ARE thoughts - We fall, we twist,
We personify that which all in all exists,
What, pray tell, is all of this? Our existence (Ironically),
I honestly, solemnly, gotta be, strong with me,
I don't care if nobody follows me on this odyssey,
Whatever prophecy You promised me is like You - not forthcoming,
Unbecoming, the thought of ignorance is so numbing,
My basis for why religion's deficient? Look how our division's succumbing!
Omniscient?
Then like all else, You should've KNOWN this was coming!

So...
Why do I act like this?

Who knows?

Maybe I just missed the jist of being a Christian,
If it was efficient, believe You me,
I'd be satisfied, convinced it's sufficient...

Sometimes I wish You would just show Yourself
And stop having Your fun with us...
No...
...the truth is I just wish that You were one of us...

You know what?

The whole hypocritical theory of Your being is nonsense,
You don't exist - but I'll admit...
If I'm writing You this letter then...
Who's really the hypocrite?

* For those who may not know, this is a reference to the sociological concept of The Protestant Ethic, the idea that hard work supposedly solidifies your place in Heaven. I'm not entirely critical of this concept other than its attribution to Protestantism, which I see as falsified because hard work should be just a general human trait, not something associated with religion.

[Note: I am not an atheist. I'm Jewish-born then converted to Christianity through baptism at age 1 and am now borderline agnostic, so I am critical not so much of religion in itself, but more so the institution of religion. The reason I wrote this poem is simply because my creativity and curiosity leads me to write from perspectives of a different persona/s. I like to get people thinking. Nobody is being targeted here, and there is no particular individual in mind; in fact this character is pretty much of my own construction, so if you are this person then it's nothing more than a freak coincidence.]