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Dear God,
I know we have not talked for a while
but there are still some questions
I need you to answer.
I never doubt your existence,
but I doubt you are kind at heart.
Why did you give me eyes?
Only to see people suffer?
Only to see fathers
abusing their daughters,
mothers hurting their sons?
You give me eyes
and I want to scratch them out.
I am too tired of crying all night.
Why did you give me ears?
Only to hear endless screams?
Only to listen to stories of destruction,
of void and eternal dark,
of suicide, mother of all self-abuse.
Listen how smile turns into tears,
and silent whispers
becomes screams so loud,
and I can't stand them!
Why did you give me ears
if they are of no use?
Why did you give me hands?
Only so I can touch the scars?
To feel the cuts on the inside?
To cut myself
with words,
not razors,
when I am trying to write.
Why in all this chaos of life
I feel like I was born
with my hands tied?
Why can't I stop them
from hurting others
and themselves,
from smoking another cigarette,
or from drinking,
until they drink themselves to death,
from going to bed with strangers,
out of pure disrespect for themselves,
from accepting the twisted judgments of society,
and carving the verdicts into their bodies and heads.
From taking strange medical substances,
and non-medical as well,
just to be accepted
by people that never care.
Why did you even give me heart?
Only to be broken?
By what? Love?
Bigger lie cannot be spoken!
It's just selfish desire
of touching the skin
of other human being.
Having control,
reserving their body
all for yourself.
Or worse,
sharing pieces of soul,
never to return,
when the cracks from within
reach out and break you apart.
Dear God,
I accept I'm inferior and so very limited,
but in your holiness and immortality,
why is there beauty,
laced with suffering,
treated with hate,
mixed with pain,
embraced with grief.
I understand
there is no rainbow
without the rain,
but give me some hope to believe...
On the Christmas day I offer myself
The gifts I never got when I was a kid.
Life is a weird thing I'm like my own child
But how do I compensate the warmth they never gave?

— The End —