Pseudo Heavens…

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The bitterness, the misery of life, questions for God.

Was it his goodness that took my child, I can believe

in an avenging god if he would tell me what I have done.

 

I have been imprisoned in a chrysalis, beaten, withered,

dust covers my soul. There is no one to find me, no one

to free me from pain and heartache.

 

Hate is a strong word, yet it dwells within my mind, in the

shadowy corners. It hides, waits like a rain cloud that

threatens to spoil the rays of a sunny day.

 

I use to stand staring at the sky, praying, questioning, it may

as well have been a black void. A pseudo path to the Heavens

outside my windows.

 

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

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