Dear God, It’s Me Again
Dear God, it’s me again–not sure if You forgot since then.
I’ve called at night. I’ve screamed alone.
You said You’d answer. Pick up the phone.
A tongue battered and stinging with the dust of unanswered calls–dear God,
it’s me again,
the one whose shadow stains the wall, the voice that breaks where night begins.
Was there a time You listened close, or did the angels lose my name in queue?
I left my faith on bathroom tiles, spelled hope in blood, then dreamt of You.
Each midnight–mouth pressed tight to sheets, wrists twitching for another plea,
I carved confessions in my skin and waited for a sign to set me free.
They said You love in golden waves, that mercy stirs in every breath,
but every wound went pale with time, the bleeding dulled, the ache was left.
I begged for one bright spark to hold, a signal through the static dread,
but all You sent was soundless night, the echo thundering instead.
The saints, they paint You as a light–some gentle father in the sky,
but every night I dial the dark and curse Your name, then wonder why.
You watched my prayers turn brittle, watched my body fade to scars,
I whispered secrets into cracks, hid shaking hands behind the bars.
If grace is sold to those who shine, if miracles are earned not grieved,
then let me ask: what currency buys sorrow’s right to be believed?
If being strong is all that saves, then damn the weak, forsake the rest,
I never needed paradise–just proof a broken soul’s not less.
I don’t need angels, don’t need wings, I don’t want choirs or the saints,
I want a voice that cuts through bone, I want relief that never taints.
If You remember me at all, if every prayer just fades to ash,
then why the hell was I made blind, why all these questions never asked?
I’ve begged for light inside this cell, I’ve learned to bleed in silent code,
yet every answer, every hope, just flickers out and leaves me cold.
Do You keep a list of who survives, is heaven packed for those who shine?
Or do the losers haunt the earth, condemned to ache, ignored by time?
If I am not a diamond soul, if I am sick and black and bent–
do You erase the things I scream, or even care what my pain meant?
I tried to barter faith for peace, I tried to swallow every lie,
but all the words just tasted dust, and every song was a goodbye.
Tonight I’ve bled the final line, the pills are gone, my vow is spent,
if You exist, then answer now–before this body’s accident.
If You are God, then show a sign–if not, release me from this ache,
I’ve prayed my whole damn life for proof, now prove a heart’s allowed to break.
If love survives, let me believe; if not, then let this suffering end,
the only thing I ever begged was for a voice to call me friend.
Dear God, it’s me, and if I’m gone–just know the silence sealed the deal,
I waited, hoping You’d respond, but maybe I was never real.
Dear God… I’m fading now.
The pills are gone. I broke the vow.
If You won’t speak–then let me go.
I prayed my whole damn life, just to know.