Repetitive

Repetitive

Mary.. mother of Jesus.

i pray to you a ritual.

rosary beads intertwine my fingers as i recite.

so not challenging.

so not inspiring

when speaking those tired prayers over again, others words form in my mind.

a desperate plea for something new.

everything is old and used, even me.

but this God is even older.

wisdom should radiate off His glory.

but my life is always in the dark.

why let me stumble across this beaten ground.

a trail that has been walked by slaves seeking diligence.

i want nothing to do with this sacrificial life.

only coveting what is impossible to be within my reach.

wanting what is not mine.

resume my everyday with no purpose.

twitching with bitterness over all that deserted me.

so unloyal and cowardly.

shrinking into the wall of obscenities.

words of greatness have no soul in them... they are historically dead.

so when i want to walk the path of least resistance,

i will have to crawl around the mountain.

never brave enough to face the unknown.

tis struggle my repayment.