The clock is ticking, No answer yet. What to believe, this thorn digs deepest. Milleniums of growth, or will of week be enough? Will I dance with the devil, or is a bed of ebony my final rest? Preists, Proffesors, Peers jumbled ideas bouncing around. Fear pushes towards a decision, the right one nearing irrelevance. The clock is ticking, No answer yet.
Reason for writing:
My struggle with whether I believe in science or religion. I bounce back and forth in the poem, in fear that I must decide a faith soon.
Birth sign: Cancer
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