The enemy’s weapon of choice

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I continue to waste minutes
days…
even years.

Why?
Why do I continue?
And yet here I sit.
Pondering…
More pondering…
Until I’m near to tears.

And all those things ―
the ones the enemy knows
will pierce my heart.

He sends them my way…

Again, why?
Why is this world allowed
to be ruled by such evil?

If I were a god,
I’d do away with all of it.
Does it give pleasure to the almighty,
to see us suffer?

Sharp objects like daggers,
of course they hurt.
But it’s the soft-edged blade,
the one that slips between my ribs,
the one I never even notice
until it’s too late.
This is the enemy’s weapon of choice,
the one that devastates my heart.
And the damage is irreparable.

 

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-beauty-floor-model-2589639/

Petulance

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Sometimes I just want to wrap myself tightly
In faded old memories and beautiful regrets
Oh to be able to forget the present time
And just relive the days of juvenile delinquency
To be young and free with no more responsibility
But the world is unrelenting in its high and mighty ways
Creating senseless rules that have no rhyme or reason
And we become sucked into the pit of persuasion
Which forces us to admit beyond our better judgement
That we must be good, righteous, and truth bearing beings
And all it does is grow us up into boring, blundering, baboons
Many of whom have hardly any imagination left at all

© 2018 Michelle Cook