The Sliver (TW: Religious Trauma, Christianity)

The Sliver

I am being watched.

Watched when I walk,

watched when I talk,

watched when I quiver,

being watched by a sliver.

Sliver of decaying wood,

a sliver from his cross

that rots me into dross.

Whenever I think,

I submerge knee-deep

into an ocean of glares.

Into my entrails they stare

and, as much as they blare,

to vamoose I do not dare.

What will the oblivion think of me?

Will the holy blaze melt my skin,

is really hell where I deserve to be?

If I tore the dogma off me,

when will the damned sliver leave,

when will I break free from thee?