Cocoon.

Is it true, then
that I am not loved by everyone?
Is the rain still the shower fall
of God’s many tears?
Don’t Christians rule the world?
Isn’t Sabbath kept by everyone?
We’re all saving ourselves
for Wedding Night, am I right?

I thought I knew the world
But I seemingly don’t;
breaking free of this cocoon that you kept me in—
a golden hammer to crack the
shell which has encased my body for so long.
Now I meet people who are different

Scary.

Cold. There aren’t many people like me—
A Christian. I’m laughed at and ridiculed
jokes are made about The Cross;
Jesus has become a doll with which
people stick their pins of anger into
until my Bible drips with the blood
and the pain that He went through.
Do they not know He died
for their freedom to laugh at Him like that?

I wish I never broke my cocoon.
In fact.
I wish you’d never made one for me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s