My arms cannot hold more than human strength. I wasn't an angel without wings. I was a girl without hope. Pretense. She'd fallen. Expected. I tried with every strength I had, but still the girl fell. People would watch as her soul broke. All they would do was shake their heads and carry on. People wanting attention, but never stopping to help a blind man see. Not Jesus. Not you. People won't offer you worship and glory if you never offer anything but dictatorship. Possession. I was irate. People are not owned. I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone. I am.
My arms failed me as she fell into the dark abyss. Man kind let her. No one would reach an arm these days. My tears were not enough to save her. They wouldn't wash it away. We break, we fall. Don't ask for my redemption. You're not worth it. Break us down. Push us around. Leave us. Don't you come back, when the end is near. But of course, you're your own Jesus. No one needs to save you. In the end you're broken and alone. Now you'll know how you made us, molded us into your apathetic claws of relentless brutality. My words mean nothing to you but letters on a screen. Is that ignorance? Or is that guilt?
 Made27 · Tue Jun 21, 2005 @ 12:28pm · 1 Comments |
