What Is Wrong With Us?
I don't understand
why we are
the way we are.
The man upstairs
doesn't seem to hear me anymore.
The devil appears to be more attentive
to my cries
as he lurks around
and laughs at me.
I reach for your hand,
and you're as stiff as a board.
I don't hear a word they say,
I'm empty inside,
as the darkness envelopes me
in its powerful embrace.
All I can think about
is my illness.
After all this time,
I am truly disturbed.
I don't have the strength anymore
to do what I must.
I spit on the world,
the war, the worries that I wear like warts.
I'm after what everyone else is after,
chasing a dream of love and happiness.
God, why do You fail me now?
We pray together out loud,
hand upon hand,
and nothing comes of it.
If anything,
the enemy wakes up
and is at work within us.
I don't want to fight.
I don't want to hate.
I want to love,
and befriend freedom.
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