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.