I am… a stoner It’s true, I struggle…with abuse No needles, pills or pot And yet I bear the marks In the dark of night During the dawn...of newest light I sling, the stones of guilt This heart of shame, that I have built You see not, my bruises… Which run so deep Or the stones piled high, in templed heap I dare not share, nor let you see The self inflicted pain….in me For who but I can sling this stone? When actions, thoughts...no hope atone Each weighted rock, specific guilt The cost so high, my blood is spilt And this, my never ending dream A nightmare such that I must scream For there, drawn back..the hand mine own I bear the ever present stone In tears I cry for Jubilee Redemption from my slavery To sin, to pain...the guilt and shame No rocks to hurl upon my name And even though I claim to know The Son of God...and Him follow My secret stones in pillars lay When failures come each hour…each day These words may resonate with some Your own stones thrown, you hear their thrum The whispered words... before they strike No worth, no hope, no love, no life O Christian woman ... O Christian man We oft fall for the devil’s plan To self abuse our heart and soul To bear our guilt, in part or whole I am…. a stoner... I shouldn’t be
