Patmos Isle

The life of a Pastor, one who has been beaten and left to die by his own kind.

Name:
Location: Texas, United States

I consider myself as one that has seen the dark side of humanity and has lived to speak of it.

Friday, April 01, 2005

In case of emergency, break glass

I want to break this glass, I want man to come runnig to my rescue, I want out, I want freedom, I want life back in my bones.

I am weary of sitting by the tomb. I am weary of it's loneliness, I am weary of it's rough edges on my back.

I have lost count of my days, I use to wear them as a badge of honor.

I
ache, I hurt, I moan yet man does not come. I cry out in my distress, were is this balm, where is this healing ointment, where is my good Samaritan? Where is the hour that man will appear and speak to me that word, that word which brings me out of my garden of death?

I
fear the breaking of the glass, I fear man will come and not find me lame, nor find me sick, and then label me as one who cries wolf.

Oh
how my eyes are filled with sorrow, and how my drink is bitter tears. My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth, I am parched, and the only drink I have is a bitter cup of mans agenda for my life.

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