due poesie

I just wanna run away,
let out a big, mighty bray...
Pain from God's moulding my clay.
Weary of this month long day,
I ask, "Que paso la fe?"
Now all good things fade to grey,
I'll lean on You, come what may.
No more will this game I play.
Just don't allow my spirit slay
Other's joy, that they might say,
"I will stay, Lord, I will stay."

--me