“To Each His Own”

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I care not for your subtle whinings,
While after me your gods are pining.
Wishing me to turn and worship,
Their cultish ways, their blackened, cursed ship,
Slowing sinking into mire,
All the while, they expire.
From my lack of complete devotion.
Which I am all too glad to withhold from.
And as they writhe,  and wither, and die,
No regrets I feel as I,
Turn from them,  and turn to follow,
The one true God, the truth I swallow.
There is a truth for every soul.
“To each his own” is not our home.

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