Wrath

He’s raving. Arm raised and hand curled in a shaking fist; voice booming, bellowing at all my transgressions;

His sons fly down at His command to take their place as the new holders of my destiny; they hold a string tied to my wrists that only they can see.

I am unable to run off course from the journey to the desert that they have laid out before me. And when I reach my withered bones up to bask a moment in something beautiful,

I am yanked away by another thread I am unable to control.

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