Pray About It (Unfinished)Mature

"Pray about it."

Again, I hear this so much throughout a fucking day I really want to carve this fucking sentence OUT of my brain. Pray? This is your solution to the heavy pain in my chest? Pray? That is your solution to me wanting to fucking die? Of course, you don't know that is what you're telling me to pray about- you never listen long enough. You never care enough to listen to what it is I'm fighting. I'm fighting every goddamn day of my life, and you don't even fucking notice.

The End

100 comments about this poem Feed