Sometimes I wish I believed in Jesus
or God
solemn savior somewhere
past the moon
For my shame
buried, like a splinter,
too deep to self-extract
He'd wield the tweezers
I'd admire His workmanship
subtle, purposeful details;
magic marker freckles
that appear in the sun
But I'm not his, only my own
sloppy body,
melted mind
a fleeting cosmic accident
YOU ARE READING
My Year of Unrest: a collection of poems I wrote in 2020
PoetryA collection of poems from 2020 that act as my diary as I deal with anxiety, starting antidepressants for the first time, the pandemic, and the unstable socio-political climate in the United States. Critique is welcome and encouraged. Some poems ar...
