This a prayer to MY God
Lord oh God,
Some see you and see judgement without compassion
I see compassion without judgement for you have made us to make our own choices
You, oh God, have been through hell and back with us
This is the reason for your Righteous name as our Heavenly Father
I find those who don't follow you, lost
I shall not judge for some are not taught to worship THEIR God
They are taught that if an earthly father would forsake than why wouldn't our Heavenly Father
Our father on earth has been made to show the likeness of you but has fallen to worldly turmoil
Remembered that when you blame MY/YOUR God for choices a man with free will had made
Consider that......

I guess this is it.
You had your final straw.

Your clothes are strewn about on the floor
Waiting to be folded up
To be tossed in a bag,
And carried far away from here.

Your belongings have all disappeared.
You took them all, remember?

I guess this is our final hour.
I guess this is
My final

*Goodbye

Like geese in the north,
I must flee from you when,
in your face,
I see the temperature cool,
your cheeks crinkle and turn the bright red
of an old maple’s dying leaves.

For soon your heart will be cold,
and the wind chill of your thoughts
will bring necrosis to
the most hot-flowing limbs:

I, who tends to run chilled,
will be dead in the day
with eyes frozen open,
the green of my irises
frostbitten to a dull gray.

A fool is he that shares his bed with the fear in his head,
My choices weigh my down, like cement shoes they pull me under the ever rising tide of self-loathing that constantly threatens to drown me.
Why do I feel such hatred for those eyes in the mirror, I can only stare for so long lest the urge to put my head through the reflective pane become too much.
It is a fire.
It burns within me, this anger, this disgust.
The shadows sing quietly so as no one else can hear.
Whisper abuse, taunting,
I am weak, hopeless and predictable,
As always, I rise to the bait.
Shackled, bound, as much a prisoner as any convict rotting behind bars,
I waste away within my mind.
I'll lash out at you!
I will...
Can't stop till I've had my fill,
I starve for blood and my own will do,
I hate that I want to hate you,
I hate that I fall short of the mark,
I hate and I hate and I hate,
Until I'm completely lost in the dark...

I'll **** your demons,
Knowing you can't **** mine,
And when asked if I'm okay,
I'll respond with "I'm fine",
I'm not your burden,
Though I may be your friend,
Put the pressure on and I'll break before I bend.

i’m so disgusting— grease-stained, paint-stained, dust and decay. the label said dry-clean only but you put me on a rinse-and-dry cycle and called it a day. i’m all cleaned up but nothing fits the same. is this what they call salvation? scrub the sins from our sooty souls, leave them in the sun to shrink, shrivel like snails burned by salt. take it back, give it back, give me back; i’m spotless but it feels so wrong.
     how do i repay you? credit? cash? my intestines looped like garlands in my arms, my heart like a pulsing jewel in my palm? i can’t afford an arm and a leg so that would have to do. your service has left me in shrunken skin; when i burst at the seams it’ll be my guts that splatter on the floor. look, it’s not like paying you back would be hard (it still hurts still hurts).
     you tried to fix me but now i’m worse than worthless. no one wants someone they can’t show the world. it’s your fault, your fault (i’m still to blame). you made me this way, i begged for it in the first place. this wasn’t supposed to be a ******* diy. read the label next time, *******.

You set the table
making sure we both have
a napkin, two forks
and a knife

I spend hours
preparing a meal
that might be enough
to satisfy both of our appetites

we sit across from each other
I ask you to hand me the bowl

it is already empty
you are already full

You
always content
to leave me
starving