Your heroes are like children to me now.
Your god a broken mirror of yourself.
Your worldview is so flawless on the shelf—
Runs smoothly, shines like new. You've told me how
You bought the best, how no expense was spared,
How it makes all things fit so perfectly:
Existence, evil, love, and even me.
(It's never left the shelf; you never dared.)

Your heroes were a comfort in your youth,
But since have fallen. And your god is small.
Your worldview claims that it can answer all
Yet never once stood naked in the truth.
I have no certitude, no faith like you.
I stand unguarded, seeking what is true.