Estoy Mal

How I shiver, tremor, ache
As crumpled paper, here I lie
Balled and crushed by some mistake:
The folded plane that could not fly

Ill again am I.

These bouts predate
My conscious choices
From wee, broken state
Come I, but the voices

Of wrung-out being accuse:

These frailties exist as punishments alike-
Penalties for all I cannot be-
But how unlike Him to strike
The confused and weak, with infirmity

They cannot understand

When He forgives the ones
who err in ignorance.

About viewingcamelot View all posts by viewingcamelot

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