A poem for God- fuck you, God. for me being sick.

Dear God,

I'm sorry for my body. I'm sorry for it's pain. I'm not sorry for me, or for you. I'm not sure quite who it is my sorry-ness goes through. I am very sure that something is wrong, and I do believe it will get better. It will get better. It. Will. Get. Better. When I say it more, does it become a prayer? I'm tired of praying. Is that alright? I'm tired of praising you when my body tells me to turn off the lights. I mean that literally, God. I have to lay in the dark. Some days all I can bear is to feel my heart beat in my chest. Even that feels so loud sometimes. I wish you would be louder. Perhaps I need hearing aids of some kind.