My feet feel like stone.
I can feel every bone
'cuz the weight of the world's
on my head.
My pen's filled with dust.
My brain's turned to rust.
My prospects and pride
have both fled.
I am trying to pray.
Let the Lord have His say.
I am trying to learn
the right lessons.
To show I am ready
faithful, calm, sure and steady
serenity and
acquiescence.
5 comments:
nice one!!
Thanks!
Is there a sort of pride that should "flee"? I identify with much of this.
I think its necessary, sometimes, for pride to "flee". When we feel the rug is being pulled out from under us, pride has to go away, and that is a good thing.
What a great poem. I love the rhyme of verses three and four; it's hard to find that kind of rhyme but that one's perfect. Would we could all do what you say here.
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