My Words...

This pen that I write with uses the ink of my soul.
These pages I fill are a pledge to my final goal.
These words that I use are fickle and free,
The do little justice in describing the Majesty of Thee.
I hardly wear feelings on my sleeve, so I use these lines to share what I believe.
The blots and mistakes that seperate my words are the diseases of my heart trying to be heard.
With each stroke, my fingers stumble, with each prayer I feel thus humbled.
These words are a metaphor of my strife,
These pages infer the deeper meaning of my life.
The flow of my work is something hard to see as the burden of my heart struggles to be free.
I cannot truly describe how I feel, yet all I know is that its immensly real.
These pages are the key to my one true love,
They are the remembrace of the All-Mighty above.

...

Sometimes I get lost in this daze,
This feeling of craze and I sit here and pray,
I pray that maybe one day I'll be saved.
Salvation is so near yet it feels so far.
I seek redemption year after year,
My patience is thin, the outlook is grim.
I feel myself falling so I send my prayers to you bawling,
These tears feel like fire cutting through my sins like wire,
And I lower myself to the ground, only then do I feel sound.
In submission I stay, struggling day after day,
To please You my Lord, to feel You my Lord.
The days are done and my time has come when I will return to the dirt that I am from.
Six feet under is where I will stay, patiently waiting for my Judgement Day,
Waiting to please You my Lord, waiting to feel You.