Phil Smith

God Doesn'T Listen

Staring at the bottle
What a mess
He's trying to hide
In a bottle of J.D.

She's gone
With the kids
Years of marriage
Just another stat

Drinking's the problem
Every night a bottle
Angry when drunk
So very ugly

They fought
Love faded
Replaced by hate
Fueled by fear

What can he do
He wants them back
God will help
I'm always in church

Dear God please help
I love my wife
My two little girls
Send them home to me

For six months
He prayed each night
God wasn't listening
They never came home

His drinking got worse
Lost his job
Stopped going to church
A bitter drunk

He cleaned his gun
Every Saturday night
One day, Yes, one day
He'll show them

Bursting into the church
Waving his gun
Children screaming
He fired into the air

Molly I love you
You are mine
Come home now
You and the kids

People praying to God
'He doesn't listen'
One shot killed the priest
'Tell God we called'

He'd lost reality
Yelling at the Devil
He took careful aim
Put a bullet through his head

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, June 16, 2007
Poem Edited: Saturday, March 12, 2011

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