Better out then in.
So here it is.
I’m tired.
I want to just sleep.
My spirit is exhausted.
My mind has taken me hostage.
My flesh is weak.
The universe is generous with each new problem it gifts me.
My thoughts feel cold.
My body is losing heat.
I feel like I’m dying.
But that would be too easy.
Alone inside.
Stoic outside.
My wants I hide.
Still empty come sunrise .
And all those bent knee sessions Feel like wasted confessions.
So I decided to ask myself a question..
Do you have faith?
Honestly, I was baffled I’d even suggest it.
The truth is, I felt like I was losing it.
Not because it proved to be worthless.
But no matter how much faith I had, bad things happened.
And just as bad.
I used to believe a man listened when I spoke to him silently.
I trusted a book that detailed how one ought to be.
I shunned myself when I went against the rules you made for me.
I repented, but harsh punishment you still gave me.
But you say I am your favorite?
Iβm no dirt bag.
But the mud on my face, you caused that.
I did as you said.
And why was that?
I attended masses.
Praising your name.
Going blind, for some invisible mans sake.
I am still fighting demons you made.
Not to destroy me right, but to strengthen me.
I lost count of the penance your messengers delegated to me.
I once believed they actually did anything for me.
I only confessed, since the bread and wine were free.
But I never understood how the human in a robe could clear me, with a blessing, some prayers and counting beads.
I thought to act as a god was a sin of pride? Unholy?
But what do I know, Im still trying to define I.
This creation you made, is tired.
Faith wants retire.
But then you wake me up again, and again.
And sometimes I curse because, I just wish it would end.
But my eyelids open, and a new day begins.
So it would seem, I havenβt lost my faith.
Though I will admit, this practice of being conscious has been causing lots of pain.
I am now aware of the damage I once unconsciously saved.
So this feeling of exhaustion, is my proof
I am finally awake.

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