We Know

I do not believe in God.
But I do believe in the powers at work.

And they do work.

To keep us seperate from them.

I see them like me. They are anxious and do not keep steady, even when still. They refuse to believe anyone else is like them but we all know we are alike.
Always alone and in suffering.

We keep the cemetery fed and the jails full.

...or so we dream.
Prison would mean belonging
And death is too sweet a blessing for our wretched selves.

The hardships are supposed to make the sweet sweeter.
But what is so wrong with it being sweet all the time?