Welcome to my blog. I'm afraid it won't be updated too frequently, as I only write when moved to write. These are a group of my poems, as written through the often difficult trek of the past nine months (at present) of my life.
I hope they speak to you and somehow reach the chords of your life, and that God will bring you through as He without doubt is doing to me.

God bless you.
~Jane Johnson,
August 14th, 2010

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Who Am I?

Who can I talk to?
Who cares to see
The desperate, broken
Part of me?

Who can I talk to?
Where can I go?
Only a rhetoric
Which stops the flow.

Who can I talk to?
A heart broken that bleeds
So many blessings
So many needs

Who can I talk to?
What will I become?
The ones I did talk to
From them I now run.

Who can I talk to?
Those that do care
Can only repeat
What I know and have shared.

Who can I talk to?
The guys I did trust -
Fell in love or have left
All fallen to dust.

Who can I talk to?
"Trust God, t'will be well."
"Curse God and die."
Somewhere hope fell.

Confused, alone
Lost in the mist
Reaching to silence
Tears at the twist

Who can I turn to?
Where is my Home?
Heaven rejects me
Earth makes me roam.

Who can I talk to?
Stability please...
Never asked for stagnation
Lowered standards with ease

Why do they leave me?
What can they see?
Why do they romance me?
Please leave it be.

Who can I talk to?
What will fill
The hole in my heart
Making me so ill?

From Doctor to Dalek...
The clock's striking late.
Subtract all love
Leaves empty - not hate?

The hole must be filled
With what? Must be thick...
I've forcefed it God,
Now it's making me sick.

I know He's the cure,
Confused as I sound.
What I don't know is how
Why silence is found.

God, You're my life,
My love and my joy,
But You won't fill this hole -

I've run out of words,
You'll be glad to hear.
Now all that is left -
"Who am I? Why am I here?"

Why flow the tears
And nothing is found?
Why in this storm
Is there no solid ground?

Where are my standards?
Gone to the grave
With the mockers that mocked
And despised to save.

I'm going, going, gone
A bidder there will be.
Maybe someone can glue together
What remains of me.

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