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On Sundays, look at your feet. 

Looking God in the eyes is followed by suffocating anxiety and prayers that lost their way years ago. 

Trace the trails of misperceptions to the end of the pews, and you'll surely find a shell of yourself waiting. 

Waiting, waiting for life to change but too afraid too.

Jesus saves too often and your mom cries too often, 

and people die too often and dreams end too often. 

And waking up is to die, because dreams are the last bits of God to hold onto.