MISSING

This gift, is unreal.
Able to mix these words up.
Tearing the rift, finding the fruits of my labor.
Putting these thoughts on paper.
Giving praise to the maker.
Creating the shaker for my pepper.
Give me the spice to my life.
I was born not once but twice.
Once from my mother, the other that night.
I tried to give my life, like Anakin.
Palpatine tried to draw me in.
Little did I know, God was always gonna win.
Over my spirit, my soul, and my body, he let me feel it.
His grace overcame the end of the knife.
He took away the blade, he saved my life.
Now I’m dedicated to Christ.
I was always his, predetermined fate is what that is.
I was unable to strangle the demons on my own.
The Holy Spirit pushed me, to pick up the phone.
Dial my brother that gloomy night.
That night I gave my life to Christ.
Crazy thinking a couple of months before.
I was banging on the enemies door.
Asking him to let me in.
My life, was dedicated to sin.
Living for the flesh.
My happiness was mediocre at best.
I didn’t have to pass a test to receive his grace.
No he was always in pursuit,
I just pushed those voices aside.
Rather live for myself,
Than stay alive.
Now I’m humbled, in my own skin.
Modest, I’m still tempted by sin.
But now I give that to the Lord.
My reward.
Eternity to live.
A life pure, free from sin.
Hundred years from now when I’m reminiscing.
I’ll remember that night the old me went missing.

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The Silent Killer

Why do we deny, others of their own feelings.
For the pain they feel is something very real.
No life is lived the same as another.
Your neighbor may be smothered, by feelings of depression.
Looking for someone to reach out, but you deny them your hand.
Instead you tell them to be happy, without trying to understand.
This depression is violent, yet it acts in silence.
Delivering crippling blows, while the person is all alone.
Leaving scars unseen on the surface.
Wondering the purpose of life.
This depression leads many to end their own life.
We morn the loss of someone’s passing.
Without really understanding, why.
Obviously they were depressed.
But since there is no criminal to arrest, we brush it under the rug.
Like it wasn’t the depression that stole the breath from their lungs.
Why do we dismiss this very cruel disease.
Why do we deny the warning signs of suicide.
Those struggling I’m telling you please don’t hide.
Do not wait till it is too late.
There are those that love you.
Those that care.
Don’t be scared to speak up, please be aware.
Yes life is rough, but you are loved.

Ripped Stitches

My heart is patched on my sleeve,
Ripped more times than I can count,
Just waiting for you to leave,
I live in a world of doubt,
Prepared with needle and thread,
The words I know are coming,
Or is it just in my head.
The end is looming,
I broke the stitching for you,
This isn’t something you can just fix with glue.
Ripped at every seem,
I would give everything for you,
Is that so hard to believe,
Instead you start slipping of view,
Now I’m left here torn in two,
Out of thread,
What am I to do,
My head is filled with dread.