All that suffering in your life
At the hands of imperfect people,
And you decided you’d had enough―
That love just wasn’t worth it
If there was going to be any further
Chance of pain.
And I suppose I get that, but I see that
You’re not comfortable calling it what it is,
For you go on pretending both to love
And to be blessed by the love of others,
When we both know that you’ve still
Got those walls up, and it’s just you
Inside that cold and echoing castle
With your make-believe life.
And this world will happily let you
Shelter yourself, and will tell you all day long
That you’re entitled to it,
But you and I both know that
God expects you to love people
Whether you’re hurting or not.
And how I wish you had the guts
To just tell him no to his face,
Rather than to pretend to be doing it
When we both know you’re not.
As it is, your refusal to love and to be loved
Is making the world worse,
Both by your own behavior in it,
And by your withholding from the world
Your rightful and small role
In making it better.
And while your counselors tell you
You need this time of sheltering
So you can heal,
It seems to me that
This is you pouting,
In a self-imposed timeout
While the rest of the team
Is on the field.
