Hear my cry

Jesus Christ, Who am I?

A daughter of your kingdom?

A snake in the bushes?

A servant to your people?

A wicked woman?

 

Why is this so much easy for other people?

Is it really?

Why can't I speak to those who really love me?

Why can't I tell them the truth?

'It didn't happen that way.

I knew what I should do but I couldn't open my mouth and

ask for help.

I am who I have always been, just growing.

Please don't hate me.

I'm sorry.'

None of this broke through my throat.

I hate myself very suddenly and unprecedentedly.

 

Jesus Christ, I mean it.

I belong to you.

I know you still want me so everything else must still be real.

I feel like a farce.

How do I go on?

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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