my words come with a certain flow - not able to put together anything substantial - just these words:
It’s only when I contemplate
That I begin to recreate
The workings of this mind state
that’s passionate to escalate
This fiery rage and hate.
I try to run and break
From this fate
I begin to anticipate
And wait
For something to alleviate
Or take
Away
This incessant heartache.
Freedom never comes fast
And may not last
Past
Tomorrow
But who knows?
I’ll never show
My inner pain -
My hidden shame
Claims
My brain.
Will things ever be the same?
They claim
It won’t always rain
But they can’t explain
How I am supposed to maintain -
Hoping that all this is not in vain -
Trying hard not to hold my life in disdain.
I try to refrain
But it appears that I am insane.
What an emotional strain.
Faced with a deathly
Enemy
Who will never flee
Till he sees
The end of me.
I try to fight and ride
On - but all I do is collide
I wish that I’d
Had a friend in which to confide.
I take a stride
Only to realize
That I am tied
By my lack of pride.
I decide
That I might
As well
Tell
Everyone worldwide
You can’t count the tears that I cried.
I try
To choose a side
Of this war I’m in.
I finally understand
I’m not going to win.
So then
I begin
To pretend
That I apprehend
This struggle within.
I break down and ask when -
When
When will it ever end?
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1 comment:
Wow...some powerful, painful stuff, brother. It takes some guts to share from the heart as you do.
One doublet really latched onto me more than the rest - "I’ll never show my inner pain- my hidden shame claims
my brain." You and I have never met, face-to-face, but you sure told my story with those words. Between being unwilling to accept me as I am (most days) and the shame of how my sinful past has devastated my present, it's enough to drive me insane at times.
There's one thing to which I can lay claim - one thing that helps me on a daily basis: the knowledge that my brain is broken. (I could hardly have done the things I did, or thought the things I thought, without being at least significantly insane.)
So when my brain is telling me, "Steve, you're no good - you'll be alone for the rest of your life - you're broke now, and you deserve to be broke - oh, and how does the title 'failed ministry candidate' sound?" I can simply say, "That is the voice of a broken brain. I would no more listen to that brain than I would play Russian roulette with six chambers loaded. That voice wants to kill me."
That way, I don't have to listen to *me* - and I can choose to listen to someone else - someone I trust to have a true picture of what's going on. (For much of my life, my AA sponsor filled the role of 'sane voice' for me. Later on, the *loving* pastors and small-group members did the same thing.
My brain told me I was useless; they told me God knew me so well, he knew how many hairs constituted a "receding hairline." My brain told me I could never recover from my past; they told me that in Christ, the past was done, and the transformation was complete. My pastor told me, "You're saved; get over it."
I hope you can start to find those loving voices, and help them shout down the darkness in your head. I'd say, "be good, be worthy" - but you already are. Peace, bro...
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