The Ugly Truth

I sit and stare

At this blank screen called life

Hoping and praying

But there’s nothing there

Well is dry

Engine is broken

Hit a crossroads between pain and promise

I see the destination

But what about this pothole

Laid right before my feet

Its like a pit

Bottomless, empty

And the sun just a little nightlight on the horizon

So many people lie, cheat, steal for the glory, the fame

Promising themselves they will never be called lame

They are broken

Like the promises their fathers made

As they laid

Little angels in their uncomfortable beds

With lice, fleas, and ticks munching on their heads

Keeping themselves warm with their thin sheets

Because Daddy doesn’t have two nickels to call his own

Instead he stuck a needle in his arm

And down the drain went the rent, the water, and now the lights

This reality isn’t a show

It doesn’t just have teeth it has fangs and it really bites

The little angel is slowly losing her wings

Crying, weeping, sobbing through the night

Wishing mommy with her tender words and soft cheeks would come back

But Daddy said

Honey, everything will be ok

Well he lied little darling

You sell your soul

That’s an investment you can never get back

Dark words for darker days

Terrible predictions for these terrible predicaments

Little princesses

Losing their crowns

Losing their minds

Selling their bodies to the court jester claiming to be a king

But this is all a joke, right?

Where is the reset button, the undo tab?

Why isn’t life a game?

Why couldn’t your man be Mario and you be Peach?

Instead, its all turned around

Its upside down

Your prince is in another castle

And you just used your one and final life

You checked out, shut down

Now you’re buried underground

Forgotten by your addict dad

And terrified mom

So many say goodbye to this cruel world

Too soon

Too few stand in the gap

Too many stand aside

Too many drive on by

We are all prodigals

But we are not the good Samaritan or the destitute Jew

We are the Priest who passes on the other side

We are the Levite who doesn’t have time to be the broken man’s guide

We seldom give comfort

But we greedily accept it

We bully

We mock

We scoff

We taunt, we tease, we refuse to see the greatness in the least of these

We build monuments in our minds

Monuments to our sin hidden behind religious dogma and false doctrine

Rude awakenings and fiery judgments await us wicked servants

A blind eye can only be turned so many times

Before its owner realizes his own lie

Told too many times

The eye is healthy

The man can see

But the question is

Will he?