Dear God

4 Comments

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  • Religion

    Dear God

    I look up to the sky
    All the stars look back at me
    Is my vision blurry
    Or the darkness buried in me
    I try to ask god if he would help
    But I guess he's busy today
    Lost in a lonesome world
    Seems helpless but still i pray
    Frustrated with my life
    Never imagined being this lost
    Furthermore a victim
    Of my own criminal minded thoughts
    In my mind I am deadly
    So I don't deserve to live
    That is the world we live in
    People rather take than give
    Some take more than others
    But still they take
    Some fake harder than others
    But still they fake

    When I hold my gun
    I cant help but think
    Of all the people I've hurt
    I wear their names on my body in ink
    I am corrupted and I cry
    I feel nothing for this I cry
    Show no remorse for it all I cry
    Is it finally my time to die

    Dear god stop my hurt
    I carry a load to bare
    In my chest a weak heart
    Ripped out bloody and bare
    I want to believe in you so bad
    But this world wont let it be
    I want to be on your side you see
    Please answer my prayer i pray again
    In Jesus name I call to thee i say amen

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    gypsyf8 commented on Dear God

    02-09-2011

    i love this poem . . . and the picture you chose to put with it . . . i understand the feeling of standing behind that chain link fence . . . with the plane on the other side - just waiting to wisk you away --- if ya can just get there. . . .. the raw emotions that you bare are very easy for me to relate to. . . thanx for sharing your soul . . . ~gypsy~

    BrielleC commented on Dear God

    03-03-2009

    Wow... this made me feel such empathy for you... good write!

    TheAuthor commented on Dear God

    03-03-2009

    This one really gives me the feeling that you have somethings to put to rest. I was really drawn in by this one.

    NayInLove commented on Dear God

    03-02-2009

    very deep girl! love the message

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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