Sunday, 31 July 2011

General Anaesthetic

She sits in church, anaesthetised.
Feels no pain, no lows no highs.
The drug is riddled through her blood
and all she feels is tug, tug, tug.

Negativity slow and subtle.
Disappointment, failure, struggle.
Let down, head down, hope no more.
Now at the lone 'indifference' door.

Unforgiveness and self pity rife
"Could this be how I live my life?"
But something in her screams out "No!
This will not do, please let me go."

Behind a wall the tears are flowing.
Behind the still her voice is growing
As fog surrounds, her mind it shouts,
"Please help me Lord, please lift me out.

Out of sluggish apathy,
Unforgiveness that just cripples me
May I not just feel tug, tug, tug
But freedom, passion, pain and love."

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