Written by James King
Edited by Morgan Diep
One, two, three, five
They gathered a headcount four the five of us,
Smoking a blunt and sipping their medicine.
They must have loved me.
One small step for man, one giant leap for
Man, I could feel the love in that room,
Punching through walls as they closed in on me.
I kind of loved me.
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The intellectuals treated me like their equals,
Living in the clouds that stole the sun from my world beneath them.
What is love? I wonder.
The opposite of is not hate; it’s indifference.
They were my light in the darkness,
Lighting my bogie and whipping a stolie.
Can one truly love when they cannot feel?
The only thing I know is that I know
Nothing in this world matters to me,
Laughing and crying and caring too much.
I hate everything.
I pray to for forgiveness
I am no longer ashamed,
Peeling the skin off my face as I explode into cerebral mush
I’m so sorry, God. I love you.
Don’t let others tell you what you -
Limit the love of man
There’s nothing God can’t do,
Yet he can’t make people love you.
The extent to which they care remains
Uncertain. Unfixed. Unlamented.
I want to care more than I think I do.
I want to love.
If man were the almighty,
love would be nothing but a subjective obscurity.
Made in his image and likeness,
Love is alive within me.
For a believer like me,
Love is this one word that too often feels missing in the lives of man:
God.
I used to believe
Mankind equals love.
Lost and indifferent to the possibility of tomorrow.
To believers and nonbelievers alike,
I know now that the depth of my love can be no match for these four words:
God loves us more.
And so I must let go of all the thieving words until they are forgotten.
In my suffering and in my joy I trust -
For, there is nothing God can’t do.
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