The Troubled One

This earth is so twisted
From the ground to the skies
Covered with flowers
But it’s bulging with lies

These lies may be white
But they carry thorns
They seem to protect
But they’re evil, with horns

We’re fed with lies – we’re fat
We put on smiles
Laugh and seem merry
Depressed, all the while

We think others have joy
But they are in our boat
Seem found but are lost
Like a sheep amongst goat

Why do we pretend
And put on masks?
Why is honesty wrong?
Speaking – a forbidden task?

Hope is not in man
We are all coloured dust
We must run to the One
Who does not rust

He always finds me, wherever I am.

God. Comforter of the troubled one.

 


Wrote this very late at night and am definitely not a poet. Sometimes words swirl around in my head and it’s nice to ‘type them out of my head’. Goodnight.

 

 

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