1.1.19

Huddled in my car on the first of the year,
The blowers turned up high,
My face blasted by the heat,
but my body won't stop shaking.
With no other sound but my heart and its quickening beat,
There seems no better time, and I start to scream--
"Why won't it stop?"

I look for You in everything,
But I just don't see where You are.
See, my arms bear the marks but my heart is the scar--Jagged, filthy,
And I have no reason to feel this way,
No reason to scream at the stars and their Maker.
Many have faced worse than I, and their worse will stay,
so why won't it stop?

I could try to explain, try to teach anyone what makes me this way,
But I cannot help them understand,
Because, Father, I see you move, but I don't feel Your hand.
Why won't it stop?

Of all I've given, and I've given a lot,
Why won't it stop--
The endless seeking, the internal bleeding, the hole that never really seems to close.
No matter how I try to fill it, all it takes is a moment to drill it --deeper, darker,
until I question, where is my sign?
Where is my marker?
How do I remain so inadequate when the bar is set so low?
How long will they tolerate the one who plays the martyr?
And do I even deserve to know?

Everything falls in line,
my future is bright,
and I am cared for,
-- loved-- both by those around me and the God above,
So I look in hazel eyes where adoration resides,
and tell him I'm fine,
and wonder why I'm so full of lies.

Why won't it stop?
The hole that grows and grows, how long can I take it?
No one knows.
So huddled in my car on the first of the year,
I feel it explode.
Through my stomach,
my chest,
my lungs,
like I've been hit by a spear,
Why won't it stop?!

Please let this be the year that it stops.
Because I want to crawl in a hole and rot.
Ungrateful and undeserving,
Where I should find joy,
I find another reason to hurt that I must have forgot.
Why won't it stop?
Please,
make it stop.

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