I often beg behind closed doors
Wanting all I cannot see
I question why You would say no
To something that'd be great for me
And so I pound upon the wood
Till both my hands are raw and red
But still there is no path to walk—
I cannot take the road ahead
Crying, I fall to the floor
Wondering what I have done wrong
Questioning what was the point,
If this was the end all along?
But then You lift me in Your arms
And I'm reminded once again
That the door I wanted gone
Would lead me to a viper's den
You hold me and I'm filled with peace
You settle my soul to its core
And as I rest inside Your love
I realize that You were the door
YOU ARE READING
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)