Convict

I often fear conviction.
Sin is comfortable, conviction is not.
Sin seems like such a warm place
even though it is far from home.
The thing with satisfaction from sin is,
it's temporary.

Eventually the sin won't be enough. You'll itch for more.
Digging yourself a deeper hole overtime.
You lose sight of everything else.
Sin envelops you whole.

Conviction saves us from the hole.
Conviction is God telling us
to step out
and fill yourself with him instead
of sin.

Sin leads to conviction, which ultimately leads to grace.
Grace should not be feared.

End.

Sirens blaring like the music

That once flowed out of car speakers

It was just an accident.

An unintended post breakfast activity.

Breaking, fast, everything in 

the nearby surroundings. 

The end drifts in like a haze.

A metal casing was not enough 

To protect the delicate cargo.

Limbs lie fractured, never to

Be puzzled back together.

A heart’s last beat leads

To the start of an end.

It was just a bad case of judgment

Impatience wins in the worst scenarios.

An extra thirty seconds might have

Changed the entire course of 

Not just this day, but an entire

Lifetime. A time that should

Have been full of living,

Breathing, laughing.

But one decision 

Brought this

Course to

End.

Enough of not being Enough

She had few regrets in life,

Except for all the times

She looked in the mirror

And told herself she was

Not enough.

The mirror lied profusely 

To her. Telling her that her     

Stomach pushed out too 

Far in that shirt

or her size four jeans

Were several sizes away 

From a double zero.

The scale never lies

So she figured neither did

The mirror.

She was never attractive

Enough for that boy
Or anyone for that matter.

Never enough personality.

Never enough style.

It was only a matter of time

Before everyone left for
Something better.

Accomplishments never reached 

The peak of her expectations.

No matter how hard she worked

It was never enough for her.

There was always an ounce

Of improvement that could

Have been made. Perfectionism

is a monster.

Life is all about making changes.

One day, she looked in the mirror

And instead of listening to it

She told it to listen to her.

That day she discovered she was enough.

Her body was enough, her personality was enough,

She was enough for the people in her life, her accomplishments

Were enough, and most importantly her imperfections

Were nothing.

Running to Forget

I always find myself running.
Literally and figuratively.
I run miles on the roads.
The dirt and fresh air fills me with contentment.
I run miles away from things emotionally.
Forgetting is often better than remembering.

The more I run the more I forget
I forget the pain of pavement
I forget the pain of my lungs grasping for air
I forget the pain of negative situations
I forget the pain of people who have hurt me

What I learn the older I get is,
you can't run forever.
Your body breaks down.
Your mind gives up.
You're left to pick up the broken pieces
of what you tried to run away from.
But somethings are meant to be taken
in rather than forgotten.

You reach a point where you have
to run to remember rather than forget.
You run to find yourself.

I often find myself craving the rain.
The light and frequent taps on the window
To the lush contrast between the leaves and the grey sky.
The gloom of the rain brings fourth my contentment.
The sun can't shine everyday and neither can I.

Redeemer

Ever so slightly you slowly took over the prisoners of my weary heart.

You unlocked their shackles and the freedom was overwhelming at first,

but as seconds passed with each tick of the clock, a realization of warmth never

felt before filled my system like a never ending cup.

Days and months pass and my cup fills closer to the top.

I might spill the cup from time to time, but
nevertheless you fill me back up and our bond is reinforced,
stronger than ever. You're the only person who takes back
a friend who denies their love for you daily.

I've never seen you, but you know my heart unlike
any other. I trust you in the ruts and bumps of life.
You only construct people in this life, destruction
isn't in your vocabulary.

I'm undeserving of the life you poured into mine
and there's no way I can pay the debt of my empty cup.
So here I sit ever so gracious, you continue to invest more
into me regardless.

A Bystander's Perspective

she spends the majority of her time in the dusty ignored shadows of the storm,
while you get to live in the warm exuberant sunshine.

It's really an unfair thing you see, while you get flooded with smiles and emotions that
wrap around you like cashmere, she gets tears and itches from wool she can't scratch.

She imitates you like a child, but she can't figure out how you can't discover how
you break her day after day. She can't keep you puzzled together while trying to fix
herself instantaneously.

She would break you off from her heart, but the cracks that you would
leave would be detrimental and ultimately lead to her demise.

So here she sits, surrounded by your dust bunnies wearing an
ugly wool sweater wishing you'd change.

Closure

I over react
Emotions rob my smile
Regretful thoughts unravel in every
crevice of my brain.

I regret letting temporary emotions
leave permanent consequences.
I regret thinking I'm more capable
of picking up my trash than God is.
I regret not taking your offering hand.

Every 24 hours luckily brings forth
a new beginning with a clean slate.
Yesterday is gone with its troubles
regrets, and hurt. The sun rises again
and brings its promises of renewal.
Carrying a brightness that fills the
void of the inevitable dark times.

>

Sometimes I feel as if my emotions swallow me whole.
Forever being optimistic in every situation leaves,
me forever being dragged down the stairs by
disappointment after disappointment.
Optimism < Disappointment

Yet, I smear on a smile because well,
that's what everyone else needs.
As a child I was always told
to put others before myself in
any and every situation.
Others > Me

The tears flow ever freely down
my cheeks leaving a salty puddle
on my shirt. There is no freedom in
my tears. They ironically leave me dry.
There has to be a way out of
this void, I pray for God to take
it all away, but nothing.
Tears > Freedom

I need something from someone,
but asking for things isn't my style.
Asking for things is needy and weak
and honestly I never want to be
either of those. I'd rather
stay here in the stomach of
what swallowed me.
Pride > Help

Definition of Self

One by one,

Single file

Flowing steady

Down the assembly line

Day by day

Following the crowd

Instead of

Changing the course.

Morphed into

A simple cookie cutter

molded

By another pair of hands

Not your own.

Bland taste, no spice

Always a side

 Never a meal.

Unlock your shackles

Find your own lane

Go off course

Morph abstractly.

Marvel in the unthinkable

Lead the pack

Be significant.

One can’t change

The world being

Safe, self-sheltering.

Go define yourself.