Sep 2015
Jesus came wrapped in paper and coated in tape
Saw the sender and fell to my knees
Felt my body sink right through the earth
Felt time reverse
Was a child crying beneath the bridge
Watched his mother and father pulled to the sea
Stopped for a moment before pretending
I didn’t see a ******* thing
Should have opened my heart long ago
******* wasted on my own problems
I crawled through service
I collapsed at the grave
Can’t shake the sweat from my tips
Can’t wash the guilt from my sheets
What the hell happened to me?
What the hell happened?
Saw the sender and fell to my knees
Felt my body sink right through the earth
Felt time reverse
Was a child crying beneath the bridge
Watched his mother and father pulled to the sea
Stopped for a moment before pretending
I didn’t see a ******* thing
Should have opened my heart long ago
******* wasted on my own problems
I crawled through service
I collapsed at the grave
Can’t shake the sweat from my tips
Can’t wash the guilt from my sheets
What the hell happened to me?
What the hell happened?
4:30am, September 19th 2015
I have a terrible guilt of being a writer. I want to help, but at times I feel like I'm doing so little. I feel like I should be contributing through physical presence, rather than metaphysical contemplation. It terrifies me that all my writing will go nowhere, will change nothing, will help no one.
https://sleepofreasonblog.wordpress.com/
I have a terrible guilt of being a writer. I want to help, but at times I feel like I'm doing so little. I feel like I should be contributing through physical presence, rather than metaphysical contemplation. It terrifies me that all my writing will go nowhere, will change nothing, will help no one.
https://sleepofreasonblog.wordpress.com/
