Do I praise God?


Upon hearing about my history of illness people gasp,
They wonder how i could look so pure
But have been so beaten mere months ago.

They gaze upon me and they no longer see
The rose-tinted cheeks
Or my crooked smile

They now see a monster
My rose cheeks are now tinted red,
My crooked smile that was once quirky
Has morphed into blood yearning fangs.

They stand back in awe
“Dear God” they exclaim, voice dripping with acid
“God saved you, child”

And now my voice is the one studded with spears.
When my eyes were filled with tears and my heart heavy with despair,
Did god carry me into the shower?

Did god hobble to the kitchen and shove ground up saltines down my throat,
Knowing that anything else had lost its taste?

When people tell me I should thank god, or that God took mercy upon me
I want to turn and ask
If he was my savior
What did he do?

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