He Meant All To Me
When I was young, I used to talk to God
in silent conversations in my head.
And I never thought that those talks were odd,
no more than when I knelt beside my bed.
I would speak to Him almost every day,
prying for His help for the umpteenth time.
And I would ask 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 did not end.
Now, I'm as cynical as one can be;
for where was God when He meant all to me?
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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