Nose to the grindstone -
Can't smell the flowers
Angry at nothing
And weary of hours
Spent in the darkness
Numb with the pain
Hating the sunshine
And dreading the rain
It's because of my pride -
I know what You'll say
It's because I hold on
And can't give it away
It seems that I'm trying
To want what is right
But I love the illusion
Of walking by sight
So turn out the lights
And let me alone
And I'll lick my wounds
Right down to the bone
For my fine little kingdom
Of whitewash and sand
Is crumbling under
The weight of Your hand
Angry at nothing
And weary of hours
Spent in the darkness
Numb with the pain
Hating the sunshine
And dreading the rain
It's because of my pride -
I know what You'll say
It's because I hold on
And can't give it away
It seems that I'm trying
To want what is right
But I love the illusion
Of walking by sight
So turn out the lights
And let me alone
And I'll lick my wounds
Right down to the bone
For my fine little kingdom
Of whitewash and sand
Is crumbling under
The weight of Your hand
Image courtesy of mhazelgrove.fsnet.co.uk
2 comments:
These are some powerful words and thoughts...
I don't know who you are, but I like the poem. Too often a description of my life. Why is it so hard to humble myself and admit my need for God when that really is the only sensible thing to do?!
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