Without

Reading and thinking.... page after page,
Feeling the sadness.... tasting the rage.
Words stumble on,  but never express,
What I knew as I wrote,  but couldn't confess.
So much work and dancing around,
As words left My lips,  and fell to the ground.
Knowing,  yet denying.... like shooting the sky,
Like playing at living,  yet wanting to die.
In living for You,  and Your ghosts, before Me
I sponsored the waste of Your awful disease.
An illness You gave You,  in livinga lie,
That You only made worse by not asking Why.
Ask Why You're a coward and cannot be real,
And Why You must rape for what You cannot steal.
Then, Why have You fallen and Why all alone?
And, Why are You hollow with no heart or home?
The moment it hits You,  there won't be a doubt...
That what is within You, is clearly,  without.