Was thinking of,the damage done to the young by those who control the faithful; of the pain I have seen or experienced. The following is a muse on the subject.

Cut flowers.
I once believed in the heavenly host
Sang praises to Jesus my saviour
Delighted in prayer and was proud of the boast
That the good lord endorsed my behaviour.

But one day after church I saw a young man
Whom I knew was from my congregation
I watched The pastor laying out his Almighty plan
Whilst the lad wept for his abomination.

I had seen the lad blossom from childhood to now,
Seen his mischief, his grace and his smile
He sat before me in the very next row
And he would often chat for a while.

"You must turn aside" exhorted the pastor with pride,
"Leviticus speaks very clearly
Turn away from this crime, or the church will call time
And close our doors, shun your presence severely."

"But it's who I am, pastor; god made me this way,
Protested the boy through his pain and his tears
"I too read The Book, but this is today,
And there is evidence of review over years;"

"-In this day and age we no longer stone whores
Or kill children for bad behaviour.
Now women are equal, not bound to menial chores
So is this really the will of our saviour?"

The pastor stood firm, cementing his stand
Against love that he would not condone
The boy walked away with his face in his hands
Dejected, tormented, alone.

I was disquieted and doubtful, and the following week
There were tears and the lads space was cold
The pastor, so grave, stood up to speak
Of a young man who would never grow old.

I haven't been back in those unfeeling walls
And the conformity they are seeking
Be damned to their piety, their unhallowed halls
And the depths of despair they are teaching.