More of the Same

It just feels like more of the same.

Promises, broken,
trust shattered,
wounds reopened,
soul tattered.

Piece by piece,
I drift,
Hope crumbles,
bit by bit.

Only the strong,
seem strong to the weak,
and powerless I aim,
to turn the cheek,
but minutes to days,
and weeks to years,
another promise of hope,

Once again with decision,
to show up for him,
or hide as I can,
disappear again.

My name but letters,
fading with time,
sentenced to death,
for another’s crime,
what part did I play,
save fodder for story,
each step on the way,
hell bent to be gory.

Yet the priest who hears me,
says God’s still on the throne,
and I believe he speaks truth,
though this feels so alone,
and I know it’s not only me,
walking through great pain,
but I see other’s reprieve,
and I long for the same.

And my heart is so heavy,
I’ve nothing to hold,
as the ground ‘neath me crumbles,
and my heart grows cold.

What good is a ‘savior,’
if saving refuses,
why open the box,
if more of me loses.

Curl back to safety,
alone though it be,
can count on myself,
connection must flee.


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