Is there something more humiliating in front of the Deity
than professing a faith, a preach, without consistency
Is there such a thing as love if it doesn't stay as much I have seize
Is there such a thing as a choice if I wouldn't even make You my first
Under the glistening stars, are the things I owe to you the most
And underneath this scars are battle I fought with the Holy Ghost
Under the things above, are seasons I love and floor I bended
But who am I to breath into something You created
Oh Lord, I was never a follower, for I only follow whenever I want
Cause if I only chose you when my heart is agreeing
Then how am I loyal, if when my heart begs and laze, I would shake my head like a broken ring
How do I have faith, when the moments I doubt is larger than the moments I trust?
Under the stars,
I shouldn't wait for healing of scars
Under its glistens,
I'm guided with freedom ever since
So to my own, who are you to stay like that when you hurt your Master as if He's someone you have never known
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
RandomFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
