I burn in silent flames,

Gazing at an endless static sky.

Bugs crawl beneath my skin,

As I am betrayed by my own fragments.

Even if the body could be spared,

The mind is still impaired.

Who could see me and say,

That I am still a human being?

Broken things are tossed away,

Perhaps it is the same for me.

I wonder when,

My fate shall be decided.

As I lay,

In my raised bed,

Propped before the eyes of God.

Gaze upon me.

Allow me to reach,

Heights above.


But mercy has never met me.


I have suffered for so long.

Will you move this along?

Why must we prolong,

The misery of the sickly,

Just like the anguish of the lonely?

I eat the blessed food and drink,

But holiness escapes me.

This fragile vessel,

Rejects its blessings.


Honored to be so close to heaven,

But I am not so privileged,

To have a taste of paradise.

So I remain,

In my raised bed,

A sanctuary of suffering.

Closest to heaven,

Furthest from,
                                                           ­                       
                                         ­                                                               Pa­radise.