xxi. AND THEY ASK WHY I STOPPED PRAYING.
running out of time, stuck in a never ending loop of fine and far from. adventuring into the self worth i deserve, come out with more battle wounds than healed cuts. reaching for glory only to have venom bite me back. cry out that i want to die. left soaking in misery, satan showing no mercy. mark crosses into skin, hope God kisses it better.
He doesn't listen,
He only ever turns away.
YOU ARE READING
what tomorrow brings.
Poetryxvii, april. (iii). you have no voice if no one is listening. © playlist poetry h.r. : #3
