Huh.

I guess I'm dead.

Imagine that.

But instead of a ground of fluffy clouds,

A golden gate to Heaven, greeted by God,

Our creation we believe in to give us some kind of hope,

I see only blackness.

But I am surprised.

Why am I surprised?

I expected this.

I never believed in Him.

So what am I doing, staring in shock,

That He is not here?

After years of being told to be a good little Christian child,

I guess I began to believe it unknowingly.

Because now, as I think in silence,

I prayed.

I prayed for Him to take care of me,

Of my hospitalized father,

And I prayed before my car hit another.

Clearly,

It didn't work.

"God has a plan."

Oh does He, now?

Well, since I'm big enough a part of His plan to have to die,

Wouldn't I have been notified of this plan?

It seems pretty important, after all.

We all live like there's always going to be a tomorrow.

And those that are dying of old age say it's fine,

There's Heaven,

And Heaven is just as good.

But he got murdered,

She had cancer,

I got in a car crash.

And now we're all isolated in the same darkness.

Imagine that.