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Sickness by mike bullock You like the thought of sickness It keeps you in your place People tend to notice you The pain etched on your face Gives you a leave of absence From joining in the life That you are trying to hide from There's safety in your strife. You've dug a stagnant cistern You wallow in it's mire Sadly you will waste away As people, of you, tire You have the choice of life or death You're missing such a lot Rise up from your septic tank For He is all you've got. |
This poem may be use within Christian ministries for any non-profit purpose without requesting permission.