I have lived a million years. I have loved and lost; I've lived and died many times over. I watch the world as an outsider, always keeping my distance. My mind reels at the cruelty and evil that abounds before me. I pity the victims who have been mistreated, abused, and unjustly accosted. I do not put myself in the victim category, but I can sympathize.
I watch from afar, lovers hand in hand, affectionate hugs-tender kisses and I cringe at the sight, seeing only the pain yet to come. I wonder when they will know of its sharp sting. I am saddened to know that they will one day feel the pain in which I've felt.
Innocent babes, God's children. Once rocked and basked in their Father's love.
Souls of purity. I ponder on why he chose to cast them down into a cold, relentless
world of little compassion and unthinkable evil. Pure, loved souls suddenly subjected
to pain, hate, greed, and despair. I don't have the answers, I just watch and mourn as
these souls are twisted and molded into something else.
I have strayed from God; I have been lost. I have wandered the world alone,
seeking answers that will not come, looking for shelter, but finding none. I have been
beaten and tortured. I've faced death and evil many times, some battles I overcame
bearing the scars and the bitter-sweet taste of victory—some I did not. Some of me has died,
gotten lost along my travels. I seek a way to fill in the missing pieces, but the holes
are too vast and the wounds run too deep. Am I a victim of this cruel world?
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Many bad decisions and wrong paths taken have led me to
where I am today, much blame rests upon my shoulders. It weighs me down; my
legs often feel as if they are made of lead as I search for the light. Always seeking,
always praying. I am, after all, God's child. The light is before me, I just can't see it; I
can't get myself clear from the darkness that shrouds my soul, my heart, and my mind.
I close my eyes and see no dreams. Only remnants of the ones I buried long ago. Sometimes they prod at me, trying to come back to life. I force them back into their cold graves where they belong. I have no room for them in my life and they will not tease me as they've done before. My heart is steel and I wear my armor proudly. Not invincible, but less vulnerable as I was in my youth. I'm a warrior—a survivor, and I carry on with what strength I have left. Hardened by life, but a heart still soft and gentle when it comes to family, friends, and children.
I fight armies alone; I hold the world on my shoulders. Enemies come and I stand my ground, even when I'm attacked from all sides. Sometimes the battles are won—sometimes lost. It's the way of things, but a way that I'm well accustomed to.
I look upon the mountains, the sky, the trees, and the moon for answers. I look towards God, and sigh, for I know that I am unworthy. I relentlessly seek a path that will lead me to peace, contentment, and understanding, but I am blind so I travel in darkness. I wish to bring light, love, and joy to others, but the way is unclear and beyond me. Sadness veils my heart--despair clouds my mind.
Upon knees, I fall and weep at my own sins. I cry out to God, begging for his forgiveness and mercy. My strength is drained and it's a struggle to rise again, to fight the overpowering urge to surrender—to give up.
The sun rises; the sun sets. I stare up at the moon; it repels the darkness. And I breathe again.
I've seen tell-tale signs of kindness, truth, compassion, and even love. So, I go along my way-- seeking, searching in chance that I may stumble across it or catch a glimpse of such things again before I die.
Dreams poke and prod, I shove them down. I walk tall, though I've been battered and am weak. I walk alone. Watching, seeking, grasping for something unknown.I am a warrior- I am what I am, but I'd rather be a babe of purity basking in my