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Poetry

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An Hontest Cry

An Honest Cry





It's late,

The lights are off,

And you are laying on your back in bed,

Staring at the ceiling,

Wondering why?

The tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes,

Welling up,

And then spilling over,

Down your face,

Hitting the sides of your pillow,

It's not fair,

Echoes through your mind,

Finding it's way into your throat,

And out of your mouth,

Nothing is the way you wanted it to be,

Life's so much harder than it sounded,

Back when you dared to dream,

Rent's due,

But the money isn't there,

You've been living off scraps for the restaurant you work in,

It's cold,

Because you had the heat turned off,

In the morning cold water pours from the shower head,

Shocking you awake,

You roll over not wanting to think about it,

A bible is in the box by your bed,

For the first time in a long time,

You notice it,

And your thoughts change,

To before the failed marriage,

That ended when your bruises,

Multiplied each night,

When he staggered home,

From the bar,

In high school you were in a bible study,

You had friends,

Not perfect friends,

But they still cared,

And they always prayed,

Together we prayed,

You wonder,

Should I pray?

Would God still listen?

And in an act of submission,

You get down on your knees,

And pray,

Not to a God you know well,

But to a God,

Who will truly listen,

And can make you better.

Copyright ©2001-2017 Richard Shane Reinert.


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