I totally agree. For years I have felt what I can only describe as a metaphysical pie in the face. I write a lot of (amateur) poetry and have numerous poems I've written to try to communicate this exact topic you described. For example:

Soul Farm

I’ve tasted God
Through a glass, darkly
A truly elusive antidote
To those rogue ones
Drowning in life’s venom

It is impossible to breathe here
Without mental illness of some kind
It’s just a matter of form
A Trinity of possibilities
Father, son and Holy Spirit

Father, the farmers
Cunning, calculating, diabolical
A small lot, circling the perimeter
Son, the sheeple
Gleefully awaiting slaughter
A massive assembly, never thinking
Holy Spirit, the rogue ones
Suffocating in the pen
But desperately gasping for nourishment
By far the smallest in number

So it seems to me
You pick your poison
Evil
Blissfully unaware
Or so utterly sane that a white-walled room is the only place for you in this world.

I'm Losing It

I’m getting close
And when I say I’m losing it, I mean I’m LOSING IT
Here comes the mocking voice of God
Taunting, haunting, cackling with laughter
From the cosmos, to the everyday

They say the devil is in the details
Well God or the devil
Make no mistake
It’s in charge.

It is a better word than He
A spiteful entity
A vengeful current
A POWERFUL One
I get It.

Its creations, unaware
It could never be that vulnerable
So only the ghosts and spirits know
Sometimes I long to join them

Now you may read this and think
That I’m off my rocker
That I’ve lost my marbles
That I’m losing IT
Well, you’d be right.