Galloping up the slippery slopes of Hell
Bloody hoofprints in the dead grass
seven Horrid screams of hate that pierce the night
7 Horsemen of Hell with their hounds
Dressed all in the deepest darkest black
Are chasing me in my encumbered sleep
For all the sordid thoughts of death
For all the latent anger at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Blasphemed
For all the heresy, the blasphemy, the gnashing of teeth
I must pay the piper for his tune
I must suffer the consequences of my bottomless grief
And the Horsemen of hell are here to collect
Nothing less than my happiness
Nothing more than my soul
For that is the price of the rebellion I have waged
Against the hypocrisy of organised religion
Anne Varghese (2005)
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