God Do Not Help Me

I have never known what kind of person I am

Except that I like to be alone,

And that loneliness is my best friend.

There has never been a time that I was not relieved

To feel my tears stain mascara to my cheeks.

At least I was feeling something

That was not anger

Or hatred of myself

Or resentment of what I could not do for others.

 

Crying is cathartic.

Crying let's me believe that maybe I can be new again.

May I can work harder next time.

Crying gives me a false sense of 

re-born. 

 

As if I can baptize myself in my own salt and tears.

As if God puts a finger on ever one of those fears 

So that I could taste His holiness

Just once before I go back to fighting the drowning 

That he cannot save me from.

 

I only allow him to bring me gasps of air.

For some reasion my pride cannot ask

Jesus to walk on water for me--

To lend the hand that I so desperately need

But refuse to admit.

This poem is about: 
Me

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