A Poem, How Nice.

It doesn't rhyme, I know this. It's kind of long, but so is life.

I'm restless.
Can't lie still.
My pregnant mind
just refuses to give birth.

No rest for the wicked.
Am I really that bad?
Thought I'd attained perfection.
I am perfect aren't I?

What's this?
Not perfect?
I still fall?
Still sin?

Playing scenes in my head.
Around and round.
Over and over.
There is no end.

The air has grown stagnant.
I can't seem to breathe.
Is this the beginning, or the end
to my insanity?

Play the scene.
I play the scene.

My thoughts offer no closure,
no end to the pain.
They give me no answers.
There is no release.

So around and round.
Over and over.
I play the scene.

Monotonous and pointless.
It won't get me anywhere
but I just can't stop.
Can't turn them off.

Exhaustion kicks in.
I get desperate.
I say "Daddy help me"
And I am granted sleep.

Sleep through the morning
and wake up tired
knowing that I'll do it again
this very night

and the next
and the next

Play the scene in my mind.
Around and round.
Over and over.
Is there an end?

No rest for the wicked.
But I'm covered by Grace.
It is there that you meet me.

Be still and know
But that's so hard
Be still and know
Alright, I'll do my best.
That's all I ever ask

I am given rest.