Jesus At His Day Job
This poem isn't intentionally sacrilegious or anything, so please don't flame me. I just think about these things. No matter what you feel, however, PLEASE leave a review. Thank you.
Eyes are closed. I touch my temple.
Never easy. Never simple.
God, how can I get this done?
Never given time for fun
Or girls or games or time to rest.
I did the work. I tried my best.
I gave and gave and gave and gave.
Cannot lose it. I must save.
Hording every prophet made.
Stress prolonged and joy delayed.
For me, for us, for all!
But I've never felt so small,
While headaches tear my brain in two.
God, why do I work for you?