I used to
Whenever I went through any struggle
I would make that same gesture
And clasp my hands together
As if begging for the smallest morsel
That's what they told me to do
"If ever you find yourself in strife,
Find Him"
And there were those times
Where I looked
And sought Him
But never did He respond
Not when she left
Not when he ran away
Not when they abandoned me
Not when you said goodbye
I clasped my hands every time
They made a striking sound
Bruising my hands with the force I would put on them
As if squeezing harder could bring Him closer
It was in tune though
To the drips of cascading droplets
I can hear them now
"You must be good as that is how He wills it."
Never do they ask
How they could be good
Simply for the sake of it
Forever in the binds of His will
I had forgotten back then
What I wished my path to be
I relied on His presence to dictate my all
And in reality, I was walking forward
To the rhythm of His tune
But never opening my own senses
To compose my own
Perhaps He does exist
And I hope He sees this all
But I sha'nt live to please Him
Only as a single note on his sheet
I'll do what I believe
And compose my own
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
I used to
Whenever I went through any struggle
I would make that same gesture
And clasp my hands together
As if begging for the smallest morsel
That's what they told me to do
"If ever you find yourself in strife,
Find Him"
And there were those times
Where I looked
And sought Him
But never did He respond
Not when she left
Not when he ran away
Not when they abandoned me
Not when you said goodbye
I clasped my hands every time
They made a striking sound
Bruising my hands with the force I would put on them
As if squeezing harder could bring Him closer
It was in tune though
To the drips of cascading droplets
I can hear them now
"You must be good as that is how He wills it."
Never do they ask
How they could be good
Simply for the sake of it
Forever in the binds of His will
I had forgotten back then
What I wished my path to be
I relied on His presence to dictate my all
And in reality, I was walking forward
To the rhythm of His tune
But never opening my own senses
To compose my own
Perhaps He does exist
And I hope He sees this all
But I sha'nt live to please Him
Only as a single note on his sheet
I'll do what I believe
And compose my own
Request permission to use this poem