Am I stabbing the back,
Of my friend or foe,
Am I in the waves,
Or the undertoe,
Befriended by,
A convicting Christ,
Do I die by truth,
Or live by lies,
Do I hide my screms,
And dry my eyes,
Why am I so blind,
To all that is right?
YOU ARE READING
Pocket Poetry
PoetryLife is not always easy. Sometimes you need to hold onto the things that make your life meaningful to yourself. When it comes down to it, you are the only one that really matters. At the young age of twelve I found myself on the streets with nothing...
