Man of Sorrows

O my God I feel like dying,
don't feel like living on -
I've had a few drinks, not lying,
but EVERYTHING feels wrong.

Where were you when I was seven?
- and all my other life?
- my dreams that turned from heaven
to hell, and men of strife,

to men who forced little boys
(to make themselves feel tough)
men who made them shrink to toys
- and still weren't man enough.

I haven't had a good night's sleep
 in 30 good long years
and many days I have a weep,
shed sad (and angry) tears.

I somehow feel responsible
complicit to those acts
of degradation - fearful-
I never can relax.

My God, I'm glad that other Man
has come to this here Earth
and "took" the stuff that this world can
throw at us after birth.

He showed us how to stay in charge;
your tiny little son.
and trusted when Evil was large,
and you saw that he won! -

- Not by never feeling that pain
and keeping free of strife,
but running back to you again
then passing on that life.

His never-giving-up-ish life;
and that's what I need now,
while these destructive thoughts are rife
please save me now, somehow

from blaming every other one,
or just being selfish,
since you awoke me as your son,
to not clam up, a shellfish.