Scripture
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He imparts me with His royalty & fills me with His love for me
He seats me amongst nobility, renting showers from above
He takes me to His gardens—replete with gushing, bubbling springs
In a fractured, tormented soul...
It has been said there are many rooms.
But some prefer, I think...
To forever call them tombs.
Poor spliced-trashed souls wander motionless...
Next to impossible to convince...
Devoid the faculty to trust.
To have been this way forever since...
Yet, hoping to trample his doubts into dust.
Finding it so irrefutably hard to believe...
I am lifted by the Lord.
Craving GOD'S Holy Word.
Wherein my thoughts often linger.
Searching Scriptures pages,
Quelling this world's rages,
Finding Christ, Salvation's bringer.
39 Strikes of paint on a canvas telling me to,
Never Give Up
Never Give Enough
Never Give Up
Never Give Enough
Never Good Enoug-
Im Never Good Enough . . .
People use scripture
for every argument,
With hate and vigor
It seems they're incompetent
of showing love.
The simple truth:
Everyone's a sinner
And we're all hypocrites.
There is a battle inside me
Between my (guilty) conscience
And my nature
Between logic and feeling
Between head and heart
Between Scripture and hormones
Between Leviticus and love…
