Vertical sheet of plastic cotton,
It makes life a jail.
They drop like hail-stones,
Lumps of my blood...
Not holding my being tight.
Kill me they do with their easy ways
And burden my being, not make it light.
What is it God?
That makes you suck my life blood out?
Life that wraps my soul somewhere beneath,
Am tired of laying still as the turmoil eats me inside.
I want to live life and shelter it in me
Till it flies out, takes wings.
Pucker not at my veins and vessels
that so make my body.
Am tired of begging you for good health,
But I beg you again...Let me live!
Let me live to help others live.
No comments:
Post a Comment