Shattered

My life seems, at times, without reason or rhyme

like God doesn't care if I can bear it this time.

My mind sees the world, as through shattered glass

instead of seeing it as one solid mass.

It's black or it's white with empty space in between;

love or hate, good or evil, dirty or clean.

"I am  pressed but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned"

Understanding all of that, I am just being candid.

 

The End

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