I'm tired

I'm highly uncomfortable with faith
It seems somehow so unreal
Like a disingenuous flashy invention
To teach me how to smile when I feel
Alone. Or scared. Or angry
To hide our glares with our tongues
Climbing borrowed ladders to glory
Returned missing its rungs.
Maybe nobody follows the same paths
Maybe nobody feels these same things
Maybe I'm out here alone in my thoughts
By myself with only my dreams
But who doesn't pray for their dreams?
I can't be the only one, right?
I mean, everyone prays for themselves
For their health, for their sins, for forgiveness
For escaping their own private hells
Or am I the only one with that problem?
Or
I
I
I
I
Maybe there are too any "I's" in these sentences
Perhaps to many "me's" in these prayers
Too little you in these penances?
Perhaps gratitude and attitude make
Better bedfellows than partners in rhyme
Perhaps too many words blur a purpose
And syllables make it easier to hide.
I think that maybe I loved you
Once, a few years ago
And then I sat out to study you
And I've barely liked you once since.
So I guess all that I'm asking,
Yes, it's come back to me
Is for the eyes to see what's around me
And enough of you to love what I see.