The Scrivener's Jest

I was spiritual, once. Almost holy Felt the presence of god, Offered prayers and praise, But his flock was poisoned Bent and broken Under a twisted theology That glorified their pain. So I judged the tree By its rotting fruit And walked the other way.

This was meant for the vss365 prompt today (spiritual), but my schedule was chaos so I didn't get it posted earlier. I will post it here instead.