by Lamar Neal
Those who were supposed to love me
Walked me to death’s door, in Jesus’s name.
I was a young child who couldn’t see
And those prayers weren’t helping my shame.
I was always a little different
But no I was not made incorrectly.
I didn’t care I was Heaven spent
I just wanted to feel sanity.
Sometimes, I would cry myself to sleep
With my face buried in a pillow so no one could hear
Because maybe then, my pride I could keep
For another day, another moment without someone’s glare.
Is this abuse made to let me to suffer
In an abyss of hopelessness and self-deprecation?
I gotta keep my feelings from my mother
Because there’s no ill will from her son.
Every Sunday, she dragged me from bed
And filled my spirit with weekly lessons.
He may know the thoughts going in my head
But Jesus isn’t cleansing this depression
I already knew his name.
I just wanted to know what it was to be normal.
Lamar Neal is a poet and author, whose work has been described as “imaginative, mysterious, emotional, and passionate.” His poetry collections and novel are available through Amazon, including his latest, We All Need Therapy. To read more of his work, check out his Instagram (Username: Theghostcharades).
The Sunday Solace series focuses on mental health and medication. We hope to provide a judgment-free space to explore and discuss our struggles in a creative manner.