My Lord, My Lord!
Oh how I crave nothing more than death!
Nothing more than dreamless sleep!
I hate to live, my breathing is nothing but gasps for air.
As I drown in my hatred for you, my dear Creator.
What have you done, I ask you. For you said to me in your Word
That you knitted me together in my mother’s womb
Had you not known God?
Had you known you were creating a lying, evil, hateful soul
Something full of more evil than you could have possibly conceived of yourself
Bitterness! Bitterness! Oh it’s beyond bitterness!
It’s nothing more than a hate darker and deeper than caverns into the ninth layer of Hell
In the very center of Satan’s mouth do I feel my insides being chewed and spitted out
To my death I smoke and drink and pray for a sign that death is near
Here I have found myself…
I have come to your grove to kneel at your cross where you killed your Son for me
Yet you no longer love me so I feel that I cannot love you
All of this you have known, Glorious One
Why have you done nothing to prevent this disaster?
Extinguish my soul God, expose the innards, and leave a meaningless pile of flesh to be consumed by vultures and clowns laughing as if stricken by a contagious mania
Feel my pain, my Lord! Suffer with me!
You know physical pain yet you know nothing of the anguish of guilt and hatred harbored deep within a barely living consciousness, a consciousness that craves nothing but to make others feel my suffering
Smiling children do not make me happy
The birds chirping in the morning do not make me smile
I am a boiling pot of jealousy, more than you will ever know
I pray this prayer to you God in hope that you will know my suffering and why I crave your gift of death! Just end the story! End this novel that will be forgotten in the end with nothing to attain and nothing to prove
By: Jerry Benjamin Stout
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