I feel tears downing my cheeks,
As my mind travels back to my past
Showing me things I can never fix,
Things that fill my heart with disgust
Then I realise,
I cannot turn back the time,
And convert the truth from lies
I cannot free my soul from this crime
I kneel down to pray,
Hoping the Lord will hear
But all those prayers, I don’t see them to pay
All I can feel is fear,
As I imagine how young I’ll be when I die
How easy it is to take that gun and end my life
I know I’ll be peaceful on my dead, with my tears dry
And I know my heart beat will stop if I disturb it with a knife
But again, I stop to think
How that stroke nor heart attack will end my fate
I blame the Lord as my trust from him away sinks
I question Christ as in him I lose faith
Where was God when they died?
Where was Christ when I slept hungry?
Where was the “Holy Ghost” when with no food pots dried?
Where was Jesus when I slept in that jungle?
Where is my creator now that I have these thoughts,
Of taking my life and giving it back to him?
Where is God as I think of firing these gun shots?
Where is he as my once bright light dims?
I crawl to bed as I await his/their reply
I leave pen and paper on the table, in case they’ll write
If they reply I will no more pry,
And maybe all things will be right