In a world

created by Your

loving hands.

 

At a time

when You say

we are in the

most trouble.

 

You are nowhere

to be

found.

 

Your voice is

never heard

by straining ears.

 

Do You really wonder,

why so many of us

are willing to choose

a lifetime in

Hell,

over an eternity with You?

TMR 2011

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Your powers of infuriating me are extraordinary, and your insipid voice that jabbers on and on as a means to kill everyone you meet or at least their will to live has me mesmerized and captivated.  Do you feel your own pain, you cause the rest of the normal world with your presence of absurd, omnipotent fear and inferiority you mask with faux intelligence and reason?  Are you capable of recognizing your fascinating skill of alluring the stupid into your way of thinking only for them to realize that they are the smart ones and you are the complete idiot?

Hopefully for the last time,

I will have to

explain why,

I serve no purpose,

I have no idea,

and,

I’m still an integral part,

of nothing.  TMR

Is it the smell?

Is it the taste?

Is it the sight?

Of the shed blood,

warriors sip, and

savor?  TMR

What do You want

with me-

oh Lord of us all?

Have You come here

to torment me,

with my own

sins?

TMR

You ask why

I lie awake

at night.

When the creatures

return.

With the memories

of the blood.

On my hands…

I’m responsible for-

even though,

it’s not mine.

TMR

The screams of his own children,

remind him of the screams of the

ones he couldn’t save.

Every verbal altercation with his wife,

brings him back to the domestic disputes

he was required to quell.

It’s these recurring sights and sounds,

that remind him.

It’s these recurring sights and sounds,

that confine him.

It’s theses sights and sounds,

that surround him.

Every time he is touched by happiness.

They come flooding back.

With a multitude of others.

It’s these sights and sounds,

that enable him to accept hell.

TMR