My Bible

Speaking to Death
I often blame myself for all the bad in my life that hatred is just instill in my mind, heart and soul. With the devil as my advocate I saw the halls of death more times than I can count. I knocked on the door for Jesus the other day and the only advice I got was to pray. I could have misheard him, because I heard PRAY but for some reason I became PREY and still I have difficulty distinguishing the two. How is it that some things still linger? Why me I ask? Did I deceive you with the expressions of exhilaration across my face, was it the looks of contentment in my smile or could it be the glare of bliss in my eyes. That is funny to me because contrary to what you see I stare at the same dam person everyday and the terminology that I use illustrates a different portrait. She seems so gloomy, misery, a woman with so much sorrow that she can’t see aspiration. I gave her a Black notebook and a pen and told her instead of speaking to the devil speak to me instead. We spoke, and you wouldn’t believe the dialogue she spoke. She told me she wanted to see DEATH. She said so many times she was teased with the expectation of seeing it and to this day she still anticipates it. All I could do was listen because there comes a time when all someone wants to do is talk but they don’t have those pair of ears to be heard, so I told her to continue.......in which she did, then she begun to weep…I looked up towards her and no one was there…I looked up towards the sky as I shed my last tear…I spoke to you which concluded in me speaking to myself…