Surrendered Not To Your World Poem by Bree Z Love

Surrendered not to your World,
so you designated me Evil.

Brought in your people to perform a baptism to wash away your distain, yes it washed away your vile.

My clairvoyance of spiritual depictions far beyond, your nonsense and fiction.

Brought in your fake fashions, dressed in old fashion.

Witchuals is what you do,
Behead yourselves, pick up your own log.

Just deep deeper that whole,
Gather up all of your flock and hold hands for the fall.

I am not captive to your call.

Saged and scrubbed you out and you called this a sin, oh ludicrousness and overly devout.

Yes, I dance with the wolves and sing with them too, out loud.

On fire with the wind ascending and far from your World,