My Plague of Despair, 07/30/2016, Deon Mumple
All day long I talk to people who are desperate,
Who can’t know I’m desperate,
The required disguise, on
When I’m home, still desperate, uncertain,
They can’t know I’m hurting
I pretend and I go mow the lawn
At church I lie, because “everything’s fine,”
“and going according to God’s design,”
But my faith is shards of doubt.
And when I pray I hope, pretend
He’s listening, that answer’s been sent,
Just hasn’t quite come about.
I even tell myself that I’ll be all right,
And tell you not to give up the fight
I believe some of you can win
But in my heart’s darkness I want to quit,
Let the thorns grow, let the garden go to shit,
While I lie, quiet, bleeding, therein.