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.
RATINGS BREAKDOWN
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