Dear God, I believe in your existence,
but sometimes I feel there is to great a distance,
between your fingers, and mine,
that keeps my eyes blind,
from your eternal shine,
and Satan keeps me in a shackle,
and my sorrow is natural,
of how I believe one should feel,
causing me to deny happiness is real,
maybe I don't pray enough for your Holy touch,
maybe I think too much,
maybe I have to little,
but all I know is my mind is becoming brittle,
with each day that passes me by,
with each tear drop I cry,
to my cries please do not have a deaf ear,
but lift me up from out of here,
from this place Satan has taken me,
a state of self inflected negativity,
because I know your hand is close to mine,
I can feel their Holy divine,
gentle soul soothing touch,
lifting me from Satan's cobra clutch
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