What Is Wrong With Us?

I don't understand why we are the way we are. The man upstairs doesn't seem to hear me anymore. The devil appears to be more attentive to my cries as he lurks around and laughs at me. I reach for your hand, and you're as stiff as a board. I don't hear a word they say, I'm empty inside, as the darkness envelopes me in its powerful embrace. All I can think about is my illness. After all this time, I am truly disturbed. I don't have the strength anymore to do what I must. I spit on the world, the war, the worries that I wear like warts. I'm after what everyone else is after, chasing a dream of love and happiness. God, why do You fail me now? We pray together out loud, hand upon hand, and nothing comes of it. If anything, the enemy wakes up and is at work within us. I don't want to fight. I don't want to hate. I want to love, and befriend freedom.