Tick Tock, Is It Truly My Sin?
What are the days
of a man? How are they counted? Is he given credit for good things he
has done? Is there a book with his name written next to all his deeds.
If that book exists, then I am most to be pitied. Not that there
are not those men that are far worse but, it is said that God measures
each sin as sin. Nothing more nothing less.
I wonder, if I had spent my time helping those less fortunate than
myself, would that weigh against my crimes. Would it give God almighty
pause. Would He that sits on high look low, lower still, lower than
that even? Would He call out to the angels, "HE HAS HELPED THE
UNFORTUNATE, I WILL FORGIVE HIM!"
I am wretched God. Will you please end this torment or, perhaps
this is my punishment. My punishment for taking a life. For taking a
life of someone less fortunate than me. But God knows, had I not been
filled with the poison, with the dangerous juice, perhaps I would not
have done such a thing. If there had not been so much rage, so much of
the green eyed monster. "You do know that God, don't you?"
"You do know that this is your fault, GOD!" "You made the poison,
you made the juice, you made us human, you made us with LOVE, you made
the women, their adoration a desirable thing, you made that bitch
beautiful, not just to me but... YOU KNOW GOD!"
So I tick off the time. Tick, Tock, counting the minutes, the
hours, days, weeks, months, years. How long will you let this go on?
Is it too much to ask? If you would only reach inside me and
squeeze my heart. Stop it's repulsive beating. Shut the doors to my
lungs. Stop the breath that enters and exits this disgusting body.
If you forgive then, let us see your magnificence. Forgive me.
The fire here is hotter than the fires of hell. The torture is
extreme. You are the maker of time but, you didn't give us that
appreciation, you didn't prepare us for it's little intricacies. I do
not allow myself to dwell on it. I do not allow it to enter my mind
because, I know it would drive me insane. You think that being insane
would be better than this hell? No, you can't just go insane. There is
a process and it includes absolute pain.
Yes, I am a coward, I don't want to hurt. I am afraid. Not of
death. I am afraid of a commutation. I am afraid some bleeding heart
will decide I am too good for death.
Tick, Tock. My time drags on.
Tick, Tock. My anger rises more and more.
Tick, Tock. My time drags on.
