by Annella March
You sit on your Pedistool, Judging from up high
Looking only at things, from the outside
seeing all ways as bad and too far
never wondering what is buried inside
you don’t see the turmoil
in the mind
you don’t see the scars
covered with pride
you won’t see hurt
buried by time
you only see the anxiety, too high
and the depression, too extreme
you judge it as lack of God on the inside
thinking that broken means He has no hand
You can’t see wounds brought on by man
Only a burden to your perfect throne
A blemish that stains your façade for show
So, you judge so harsh hoping the “sin” disappears
But you make the pain worse
Bringing more tears
You bring shame
You bring doubt
You bring apathy
All to cover the suffering
That was put on me
Mar that was not wanted, asked for or “egged on”
Brokenness that is carried because its destiny
Something I earned because I’m me
Hurt I created and can never be free
WAIT!
That’s not right or ok!
I did not earn this pain I hide away
I could not control the actions of others
The pain pressed on me, when I should have been covered
The scars so deep taking years to uncover
A burden so heavy
Suffocating within
Fighting the shame permeating my mind
rifling for someone to reveal my pain
grasp the true tenderness warped by chains
penetrating the wall of distain
holding my heart secure, not in vain
articulating the truths, I have never known
soothing the fear as they escape through tears
demonstrating affection and love
not petrified by intimidating walls flaunting decay
opposing pain, thoughts convince are near
luring acceptance held so dear
allowing love to conquer fear
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