The Smile 

I think it may be time,
to pick up the smile,
the one that conceals,
my weakness and vile.

I’ve followed directions,
worked hard and showed up,
but it aches even more,
when You don’t give a fuck.

I stand and kneel
and sit when I’m told,
but the begging and pleading,
is getting old,
when I let down my guard,
and submit when they pray,
yet your comfort and peace,
remain far away.

It’s not that I don’t want it,
for the formula I’ve looked,
and there’s no sure answers,
in any of the books.
And the answers that do come,
all contradict,
I’m not finding healing,
I’m just getting sick.

The pain in my belly,
competes with my brain,
and my heart is too wounded,
drowning in pain.

I don’t want to just be,
the fat girl that cries,
I’m tired of the bullshit,
the scriptures, they lie,
that grace is for all,
no matter the man,
yet it hurts more to be,
in the “palm of His hand.”

The smile, 
I just need to put it back on,
what good are my prayers,
He’s already gone.

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