When Heaven Bled

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. - Lewis B. Smedes

I loathe myself for what they did.

For what I let them do.

Every day.

For what I didn't say.

When I ran away.

To that place I love to hate.

Bitter and bipolar.

Manic and marooned.

Like Moby Dick that's been harpooned.

My skin crawls.

My soul bawls.

Alone, with curses and expletives break-dancing in my head.

Fortunate that I wasn't struck down dead.

What's left of my mind wandering in places it has no business visiting.

I've seen too much.

Lost touch.

Leaned on life's crutch.

Misplaced my Ramen noodle.

The whole kit and kaboodle.

I went to the Cheese Whiz factory to find out how they get it into the can.

Turns out it's hooded and secretive like the Ku Klux Klan.

Now, I'm no longer a big fan.

And how, exactly, do they make it spray?

Guess what, I think they kneel and pray.

What is Marshmallow Fluff?

Have you had enough?

I argue with the sun and feud with the moon.

My heart is as hard as stone but chiseled and hewn.

Etched with indecision.

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

I'll give you another choice.

A monkey grinding an organ in a monastary.

Or a coal miner who needs a new canary.

I've got enough rhymes to choke a horse.

No sincere apologies or deep remorse.

Before I go, here's a bit of news.

You can tap dance in Hell if you bring the right shoes.

Thank you for turning the mighty river red.

That undying day ...

...when Heaven bled ...

 

Author's Note

"The heart is forever inexperienced." - Thoreau