No one wants to know

You have to imagine what the catholic nuns feel towards the death of Jesus.
You have to imagine what Saint Michael thought as he flung those demons towards hell,
towards eternal suffering.
Oh what a sacrifice our human weakness, oh what a battle down to the twine of it all.
And you have to imagine what it must be like to burn in order to be saved,
and to be saved what it must be like to burn.

And what of those lost creatures, whom Jesus cried for,
and Moses marched for,
and how they came to be.

Was not Hitler once a human being?

Oh but its not so simple, no. Its never so simple.
A million scarred creatures doing the right thing a little too long to be right anymore.
Because in order to understand the gruesome truth we have to know it first,
and how we fear to know that dark corner where the sluts stay
with hardened faces.
And how we fear to peer into that certain line of poverty where there is never any return,
and that certain level of hurt, without regret, while the world forever burns.

And you have to think what the nuns know of Jesus when they pray at night,
and you have to think of what Saint Michael knew basked in his eternal light.

Funnel it again, FUNNEL it again. I don't want to be too close to understanding.

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