The Pointed Finger in the Sky

Feeling the rhythm of my feet against the ground,
Searching for the darkness in a place that can’t be found,
I scream at myself and accept the lie,
That running will escape the pointed finger in the sky.
I climb to the top of my pedestal and see,
The apathetic crowd of people below me,
They are so mundane with their simple lives,
Do they not realize they are living a lie?
But here, where the wind rips tears from my eyes,
I know I can avoid the pointed finger in the sky,
For how could I be blamed for all my evil deeds,
If I can’t see past the lies and sin that surrounds me.
For those few numb moments I can forget what I’ve done,
And leave my shit behind in piles as I run,
I gasp and pray that with each repeating beat,
The ground will dissolve and collapse under my feet.
I beg myself to trip and come crashing to my knees,
Where I can do nothing but plead for his mercies,
But no repentance comes; no hands are lifted high,
And I will never face the pointed finger in the sky.