I don't want to be like Them
Afraid of myself
afraid of you
Drifting in my own sea of bitterness
Retreating in my own wondrous cave of
isolation
Who wants to live like a rabbit,
scared of the world?
If Jesus drove a Ford,
would he pass me by or pick me up?
His truck is filled with fresh vegetables
But does he have room for me?
So what if I don't like bugs?
I would sit with them to feel alive
But now it is empty, decaying
The sparkle of youth is dull
Did he hurt me, or did I hurt myself?
No matter, it is done
And Jesus flies by on a Harley
Shooting me a pitying look, or compassion
I can't see anymore, the shell is cracking
And shrapnel has embedded in my brain

I don't know who she blames anymore.
Jesus rides by me, an unwilling poster on a bandwagon.

06/11/2002

Posted on 06/11/2002
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