Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Misdirected Prayers

She screams in a blood ridden agony from the
Top step of the stairs, hunched , breath catching
In her mouth as the soul pounds from her chest.
"I'm going to die" she says so matter-of-factly
She cannot escape, as she awaits her blistering shell
Of a body to awake and her limbs cold and bloodless
Pump faith to keep her alive

The next day tears fall for somebody else
I prioritize the hurt, ignoring nights staring at ceilings
Remembering how much I wanted to get up and say goodbye.
No, I don't cry for her . My tears I reserve for another because I
Cannot comprehend both so I sit once they've left the building,
Crying as if its my job, as if I'm getting paid, as if it will change.

She was a bruised body whose pain cleansed her for eternity
The other is sin , sin that rots her innards as the heart bleeds internally
Her life will fall dismally into a grave squeezing forcefully so
I request to save the latter.
I plead, not because of her life but
Because her being alive may depend on it

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