MY ALMOST HERO.

Sometimes we do not realize 
Where lies our last chance in life.

I feel sorry for not have been strong enough,
Being so down, so absolutely fragile, 
So scared, so victimized…
My whole life was raped by the time I saw you,
But I could not realize
You were my last and only chance of saving 
My absolutely priceless freedom and life.

It could be easy.
And so I thought it was.
But he kneeled down,
Offered me a ring,
It all looked so much like I was part of those films
I had been watching since my birth.

One could then blame Brazil
Or those who created the movies
With all so surreal…

How could possibly love be expressed like that?
In full humiliation, or desperation, someone offers you a ring
Whilst kneeling down at you.

I can only think I deserve adoration,
As I always did,
But the gesture is the same of the priest
Who kneels before the Christ his own church crucified 
To prevent Him from speaking further against what they wanted the World to be and live.

The priest kneels down because he is so comfortable 
In an artificial position which allows him to play around sexually with whoever he likes
Yet disguised as saint, he could not look more acceptable being single
Yet married to someone who is not of his nature, and obviously cannot ever be,
Only God knows it could only be already a maximum blasphemy, 
How could he think he could possibly be married to someone who did not tell him ever
He was the same?

Like the priest kneels down
So the American movies portray…
God knows it is all brain-washing,
But how can a woman fight that anyway?
He kneeled down, for God’s sake!
I am sure I was perfect and totally deserved it,
But like the poor mud-made image, 
Who has nothing to do with what it is supposed to represent,
I stare; I glance, and know he is only doing that for thinking
Forgiveness is my privilege,
It does not depend on anyone else.
By kneeling down before me, such a stupid creature, 
Also made from mud, 
He thinks he is now forgiven, 
And he thinks God will trust.

But God never provided me with the forgiveness and power he would hope for.
He lives in total delusion,
Like the priest who also kneels down
Before the poor image, symbol of maximum blasphemy over the same God
Whose forgiveness him, totally mentally insane,
Thinks he is reaching for.

Problem is the way they described the life of poor Jesus, 
Who has never written a word about Himself,
And to be sincere, I reckon, the apostles were too busy 
Helping everyone else to write as well.

Astonishes me so much that a man so brave as to be picked by God’s son,
Would terminate his days hanging himself, as the Bible states they did.

Sincerely, I do remember him, his face…
So so…so…humiliated…
Not really before me, 
However,
I could see how he cared looking around,
Making sure everyone was proud.

But the ring, the so expected gesture…
Only a stupid woman knows what that is.

It is incredible what they do to brain-wash us
And make of us the most unhappy people in the whole universe,
Living of hope whilst every male actually lives.

Basically, he was there,
The gesture I would expect since the first betrayal, the first aggression, the first violence…
I don’t know, sincerely, myself, what goes wrong with our neurons.
I thought of my blessed mum, perhaps about to die,
She dreamed her whole life I would marry,
But I see absolutely nothing good in marriage,
Especially because of her.

I don’t know, 
Marriage as they say or portray everywhere 
Looks simply so wrong and mistaken,
Just like the priest who kneels down before the altar,
Hoping the Romans, those homosexuals,
Who lived in total orgy with the public money,
Who used their power to oppress, scoff at everyone else,
Have written or suggested anything sensical 
For a person like him,
So selfish at a point of helping absolutely nobody.

The priest reads whatever is already written 
By someone else.
He goes to the church once a week, these days, if so.
He does not clean it, he does not watch over it,
Someone else does it.
But as far as I know, that is his only biblical allowed role:
Cleaning, watching over, fixing the church with his own hands,
In full humiliation and proof to the Lord he there puts his soul.

Yet, he kneels down,
And it is only on the hope
That it suffices doing so.

I could think that was enough.
But I did not, am sure you know.

I tried to split later on,
But somehow I thought it had been so strong,
You holding my arm,
Telling me that whatever it was, 
Please use you instead.

You knew.
And you could certainly have saved me.
Look at me now, my whole life stolen,
My own organism violated, 
Corroded, all artificially,
Because sluts, vagabonds, thieves, parasites,
Not only had nothing good to their lives,
But they also decided I could not have either.

All the laws infracted,
In every possible continent,
And my own brains and body 
They used, stole, wasted,
In the worst World massacre
Over the Angel he pretended to take me for,
That who was going to get him rid
Of the punishments of his Lord.

I loved you instantaneously,
Know you are my twin soul,
Yet, some would say it is karma,
Others even wrote,
That I end up in this situation of being
Finally so victimized 
By the totally unblessed
Who like the priest
Pray, preach, and do not do anything good in this World.

The things they did to prevent me from living, 
From being, from staying, 
In my own life, body, time,
Are surely unbelievable.

God knows I was not even for a second a coward,
Never envied anyone else,
Never used anyone else,
Unless it was sexually, and only after they proved themselves
To be worthless.
Suppose that cannot be said `using’ for they also had pleasure.

God knows I did everything right my whole life, like Jesus,
On the hope people were civilized enough to return my sacrifice.

It is so true we all think some creatures should not be entitled to breath 
Or exist; actually, quite a few.

However, not even in the worst moment of my life, whilst free,
I was able to think I was entitled to someone else’s life, freedom, time.

Because I always respected, I lived, once more, on the hope of the stupid
Women who watch American movies.
Hope…
Can only think that is why so many honest, good women
Loose their whole lives for true prostitutes, without having a single choice.

However, I wish to write in public:
You were the Angel God sent to me on the grounds of mercy.
A good friend, Finish, reminded me well of such.
I wish my Angel had held my hand,
And gone with me to meet the mind-alike priest of a new order,
The order of the assassins, violators, thieves, parasites;
Those who respect nobody, nothing;
And think only themselves, in this World, hold rights.

As for you, my almost hero,
Who God sent to me before my martyrdom,
I wish to say `thanks’ in a weird way.
Can only hope, these days, 
That I can have a picture to inspire me fighting for the so hoped justice 
Of Jesus: simply banished forever from Earth and cursed,
Always learning what is wrong, guided to hell
Thinking they are going the opposite way: 
ROMAN…APOSTOLIC…CATHOLIC…CHURCH(!).