~A Prose~
The rain pelts on my car's windshield
Like unrelenting thoughts coming from left field
I swipe them away
with an agitated push
driving down the freeway
with the latter-days rush
A sharp image i see on the side of the road
A serpent torments a bride, her burdens still to unload
She lets him continue to torment and attack,
Trudging down the highway with a burden on her back.
I roll down the window and said, kick out that slimy goad
the tormenter is defeated, 'cause your Husband takes the load
I can do this myself, I don't need my husband's pity
The the fact He took care of it sounds all so nice and pretty...
But I know how men work, I can count this as true.
He can say what He wants, it doesn't mean He'll come through.
If I do it this way I'm still on the safe side
With a husband, or a lover, though I'm suppos'd to be His bride.
I roll up and drive on, with thoughts pelting on my shield.
Wondering why to the serpents wiles she would yield.
A risky consequence of an unfaithful life
With a Holy Husband, would He live with such a wife?
Even though this image I can daily forsee.
I won't let you get to me, oh world, I won't let you get to me.
I'm Crucified with Christ, and He's living in me.
I won't let you get to me, oh no, I won't let you get to me.
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