They knelt with eyes shut tight in prayer,
Not to listen, but to be spared,
For doubt was named a mortal sin,
And questions cut deeper than any blade within.
Belief once meant to guide the hand,
Now it clenched into command,
And mercy bent beneath the weight
Of words that would not hesitate.
Faith without doubt turns sharp and cold,
A truth that never bleeds,
It builds its thrones from shattered bones
And calls the ruin creed.
When no voice dares to ask why,
Cruelty learns to pray—
For certainty that never bends
Will always break the way.
They burned the book, they sealed the door,
Said the gods need nothing more,
But every scream they silenced fast
Was proof their faith could not outlast.
If truth fears being questioned,
It was never strong to start,
For even light must face the dark
To know the shape of heart.
Faith without doubt becomes a crown
Pressed down on mortal necks,
A promise spoken once in hope
Turned into a threat.
So let belief learn how to kneel,
Let wonder stay alive—
For only faith that dares to doubt
Deserves to truly guide.
