I am tired.

For the seed of sorrow

Planted in my lungs,

Has sprouted into a burning bush of solemn silence.

 

Where do I turn when all is abandoned,

When I have no where else to go.

 

"God",

They say. 

 

But God has been with me all along,

Whispering secrets in my ear.

 

For a year I have struggled,

Without relief,

If what you believe is real,

Why am I not.

 

I scream of angels,

But so does the preacher.

 

What makes me wrong and gives him,

Conviction.

 

For Christianity is a hypocrisy, 

And I shall tell no lie.

It is your freedom,

Your right,

To pick and choose the plight.