This is hard for me:
Trying to figure this all out, on my own.
House, home, kids, discipline, instruction, yard work, homework, housework, car work, all work.
I can’t keep up.
My mind drives me nuts.
Never shuts up.
My attempts at getting anyone to comprehend it…my need for assistance.
Whether it be my kids, church..
No one gets the need.
That I, one person, raised without instruction or healthy examples of doing this..
Can’t do it.
It’s a lot.
It at times is too much.
I detest my own birth.
I can’t manage it all.
I now fall silent.
Words evade me.
They do no good I’ve found.
I’m tired of forced smiling; when most I’ve known is internal crying.
Do you know what it’s like to force happiness, peace, joy?
For all these people who don’t get it?
Who tell me to change my attitude? Stop being negative.
What do you know about it?
Who gave you hope as a child?
Cradled you in their arms?
Assured you all would be alright?
Gave you a sound environment, so you wouldn’t lose sight?
Who kept you going?
Told you move forth, fight!
This stuff is instilled you see.
You preach to me; I must think, see, and feel like you.
As if all by choice.
As if I at birth, said well….
Give me pain and grievance!
Nothing but neuroticism!!
Let me be a neglected soul, oh Lord!
Give me sorrow, let it be my lifelong toll!
Let me be angry and full of complaining.
Let me want misery, and nothing but captivity!!
May I have a longing to expire from here from adolescence.
To see death as best than…
Anything other than..life like this.
May my kids be fatherless, like I. Robbed of that foundation and leadership.
May all holidays be torment, dangerous and bring uneasiness.
May I have no stable family or comfort in..all the pleasures and benefits rich men take fancy in.
You imply I decided.? Give me all of this!
All my life I’ve chased morality for fear of hell told by holy men.
I’ve been offered diamonds, wealth, all that any gold digging women would have happily taken at the cost of sin.
I’ve denied myself earthly content and easiness…all achieved by wickedness in attempts to find that bit of freedom Saints speak of.
I’ve found phony men.
Greedy gluttons only interested in instruction. No love in them.
They told me no self pity! Be strong! Dignity!
No pain, resentment, be content with..all of this.
Praise and pray it away they say!!
Must be sin, must be something you’re living in.
See us thrive! Full of peace, kindness and hopefulness?
We get it from God, our study, His Spirit. We chose it!!
Forgetting the family they have to stand beside them. The free time to unwind and the resources to guide them.
Can I not see like your wiseman Solomon and denounce all that’s worthwhile in all of earth that is!?
Can I too, say there is no significance in the lives of men?
May I not be like Elijah and give up real quick?
Can I not be afraid and hide away like some of your Bible greats?
Can I be human like David and fall for lust? Or would you see me as completely heathen?
Can I wonder like Moses in this empty, barren wilderness… lost and shit..for years on end. Or would you no longer believe I was a Christian?
Can I get lost like a prodigal for a bit?
Turn over your tables that you sell in the temple and be a little irritated by your fancy shenanigans?
Quote other philosophers poetry like Paul hanging out in Athens did; or would you have non of it?
You say I sin, so I must be Spiritless?
Can I cry and it not be called senseless? Over the top? Extravagant?
Can I just be and relish in it?
Because I never have, I never have found joy in none of it.
And oh I’ve fought, oh I’ve tried, if you only knew who I’d be if I let go…and indulged in; every debauchery that has tempted me…
Maybe this is why I am a madman? I’ve resisted so much of it. And it’s been a fight within.
You’re ears are closed to anything but you’re own fine tuned judgements. You’ll see nothing of it; but your own ideas of who I am and what I really struggle with.
I should not be alive.
I’m surprised I’m still alive sometimes.
I can honestly say; I’ve felt a very dark abyss that might have broken the strongest of men.
But here I am, alive to speak about it.
Maybe I’m coming out of it.