I can hear you scream still.

Scream for the one you love.

But what can I

An empty shell do?

I am losing too.

Every minute...every second...

Of this banal existence.

Fighting a world

Now here and then gone...

I am no prophet.

I have known no miracles.

I am told of a merciful God

Whose cruelty is named

Benevolence and grace.

You have no choice.

Neither do I.

But to play His puppet

In His theatre of suffering.

And yet I look unto Him

Like a besotted lover

Relishing pain

As if it were His right

To inflict on what He owns

The burden of poisoned arrows.

The cutting edges of a thousand swords.