I cry out to you.
every fiber in my being wills my cries
to reach you in the heavens.
Hear me, O God,
for I fear that you have not been hearing.
I am wretched and the only offering I have for you
is my sorrow-filled heart.
I spoke.
My tounge uttered words
as my thoughts screamed
echoing prayers.
No answer came.
So my mouth spoke again
and I received a tongue lashing.
When I bespoke my helplessness,
anger was poured out on my head.
My sins are many.
I swim in the mire of my past.
I face my demons
seeking help and health.
My friends were not my friends.
They did not like my new dance.
My new freedom.
They were not happy for me.
For they only loved my compliance.
They only held dear those things I let them make in me.
These things were lies.
These things were not me.
I need you.
I scream for you.
Is your silence your best love for me?
Or is that a comforting lie we tell ourselves to keep the story going?
Tell me,
or I shall die.
When I think I can take no more, more comes.
I am no victim.
Yet, I am ill-used.
Help, help, help, help me dear Lord.
You are my only hope.
Writen this past year, and republished, unedited, in all it's true colors, here from the other side of the worst year of my life.
