An Open Letter


I remember always having plans
you know, some idea of my life
changing the world, a purpose
something more, a wife

something other than ashtrays
puccini, coffee, a bank account
more than cars and talking of living
now I just want to get out

I’ve been praying for so many things
and some of the words I got back make no sense
just who is talking
is it You, the devil, or just the voice in my head?

What of the dreams?
prophesies so certain and particular
was it a mistake that I made
did I not listen, and so it went no further?

Have I been abandoned
cast aside because my heart is black?
am I the prodigal son
But I can just never go back?

why allow it, if it is not so?
where are You, since I feel so alone
why allow everything to be as You say
when I just feel it slip further away?

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