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