He Meant All To Me
When I was young, I used to talk to God
in secret conversations in my head.
And I never thought that these talks were odd
no more than when I knelt beside my bed.
I would speak to Him mostly every day,
asking for His help for the umpteenth time.
And I would beg Him to take me away,
anywhere but here would have been sublime.
I lived in fear of my father's beatings
from early on; God was my only friend.
And in my heart, I cherished our meetings,
but the abuse and nightmares didn't end.
Now, I'm as cynical as one can be;
for where was God; when He meant all to me?
(Sonnet)
5/22/2015
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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