RMC

Make the fake debate
and you will miss the truth.
What is inside a mind
is what I express to you.

I haven’t felt the touch
of a warm hand on my shoulder.
Just those who don’t know
my pain brings anguish that’s older.

Traverse the paths as I walk
those miles that pile on me.
It is a burden upon my heart
that soon all might see.

Pushed it down, it did.
Anger is of more use
than despair. When I suffer
abuse, I cut my hair.

Samson in the land of pain,
chained with no sense the same.
I take on burdens at times,
when I’m not the one to blame.

I turned dark a long time ago,
aware of the burden
I placed upon broken men
who will never mend.

My name is slave,
I behave like I should.
Looked up the definition
in a book because I could.

Thankful I am to the Lord above,
though I should be dead a thousand times.
The curtains of the Temple
when my Savior died, torn they did find.

Faith makes me seek the truth,
because I wanted to understand.
What fashioned me into what I am,
so I do and try to do what I can.

Nothing is what it appears,
wounds run deeper than you see.
The truth is not wasted on me,
it finally makes me see.