All high and mighty, they say.
She is “God’s precious angel”,
With her devotional in hand.
Every Christian loves her
In her dreaming state of warped reality.
This girl believes she is above others,

They say.

It is not true, no.
You have had classes
Like slime drag on and on,
I have had nights and days
As if every moment was
A present on Christmas morning.
Your judgment is as incorrect as they come,

I say,

And I know.

The Christian is coming over, they know.
Even a forceful hand that holds a whip
Would not keep them in place.
There is no desire to know, to learn
Of her taxing thoughts and lifestyle.

But I know,

And I try.

On their way out the heavy door,
As I longingly look behind me,
Laughter mixes with a whimpering in the air.
That was not all they did not know:
“God’s precious angel” sat on the stairs.