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Monday, September 11, 2017

The Strings of My Sadness

I am like a puppet to my sadness. In His hands he holds the strings. Sometimes he tugs hard and I wail in pain. Other times it's a gentle nudge and I find myself a quiet place to weep.

Once He jerked me about all at once. My mind began flooding with the promises you made and how you broke them all. I went outside and picked up the first thing I saw, a piece of wood. I then threw it with all my might at the block wall and raised my head to the full moon. I cursed your name and shouted, "Fuck You Mother Fucker!"

Tears of beautiful release came pouring out.