i wear black on the outside, bc black is how i feel like on the inside

i vacillate:

between believing that God

can ever be so good to me -

most of the time

i  feel like the kid on

christmas day

who woke up to a 

dearth

of presents, amidst

vociferous, convival jubilee

& the sound of papers being shred,

uncovering coveted treasures -

fervent prayers answered.

& believing that God 

can only be good to me; 

in my selfish heart,

i forbid him to shower 

gifts on others, at

my 

expense, as if 

i provided for them 

myself, 

as if

my ways usurp his right 

on the throne. 

how human,

how carnal,

how wrong &

how helpless,

to be a captive 

of such 

miscreance. 

(sometimes i am just so afraid that my ambitions will not have a place nor patience for me - i am so afraid of being left behind bc such solitude is more of negligence than self-merit)