forgive me

here’s what i know—
i shouldn’t be shocked
i’m stuck, because i’d
rather be praised by man,
than believe i’m right with You.
so, i do what comes easy, run
away, hide, beg not be touched,
but plead answer to decision
i can’t make—school or a job.
i can hear voices in the back of
my head, you have to do something.
outside of the home. you can’t sit here.
i say i don’t want to do Your will—read
this book & allow Your love to dismantle
the Baal i cling. my next thought: God,
i cant be an English major if i don’t
desire read any other books than
the ones i’m lead to & let’s not
forget how i hoard them.
You whisper, do this small.
& i worry about how i am
not succeeding, not the
golden child i’ve claimed
be—i want to handle more,
i cannot, i’m weak.

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