The Pain Problem
Time heals all things…right?
How long must I stay until my sentence is served?
The Bluish Bruise remains recalcitrant
Achy and tender, years beyond its infliction
Hidden under suffocating bandages and baggy clothes
The yellowing of it concerns me, but only slightly
Why I am sad? Where do all the tears come from?
A sadistic string is attached to memory,
Even slight tugs cause my eyes to water
And my countenance to fall
These chains, these prison walls are so thick and high
Escape is not an option
I fear my rage, my right to anger
I fear the consequence, of being wrong
I fear because of painful loss, the disquieting of my soul
I masquerade as a Christian, under the guise of peace
I hide my heart from my Father
And hold him responsible…why wouldn’t I?
He could fix this! Is there Holy enjoyment in my suffering?
This is unGodly punishment
Yanking my chains like a manic marionette,
I wallow and writhe upon His Command
Here’s a new law for Newton, “God makes the decision and
I bear the consequence.”
It might be easier to not believe, but then who would I blame?