For all the pain I endured,
The fear I have bottled, and,
The anxiety I have kept under the sieve,
But it kept thriving.
Lord, redeem me.

For all those silent cries,
some nights, I had in the dark,
I seek for a melody to make sounds about it,
I need to make a medley or beat a beat about it.
Lord, can you hear me now?

For those murmured assertions—
I beseech for poetry.
I beseek for poems that harmonize
With souls abandoned in bins of burden.
I know You, Lord, will make a way.

For all the screams their heart summoned,
Albeit walls of their chests summed up them into echoes.
Alas, the beats, breaths, and pants, sickness calls,
For the beating heart with no pattern halls.
Lord, You shall make it right.

The chaos in minds, quack of ducks.
The absurdity grows buds, petals ducked,
Sun shone bright beyond— radiance reigned,
Days blissed with blessings of rain,
I know You, Lord, forsook none.
And even this time, You will make it right.
My Lord.