Men of Songs I thrash out my complaints I take the hurt, the Blame put it all on my shoulders‒ knowing through all this rough terrain not one showed Sincerity not one came so I let tears fall like rain open my mouth my worded train feeling alone, empty worthless...plain wondering if I'm really insane I cast out my stones to You† ‒Your† broken little dame all these tasks my Life...so drained not knowing the final aim just take it all in‒ the arrows of false names on invisible ropes...I hang told...Life is but a game learn to play it...you win fame You† and I know‒ that's not how it's framed Life isn't at all a game You†...no one can tame someone so righteous‒ You† easily cast in flames and that person will never be the same when this heart feels weak in faint I look at all my I can'ts I re-hear all those filthy names know...none of them...I ain't but I know‒ I'm such a tiny piece of grain and the only fame to be claimed is that of Your† sweet, sweet name I'm so, so tired of being maimed so tired of lonely's strain what have I gained on this hateful, lonely lane I know it's part of Yeshuah's† name each and every vein I'm so weary...feelings‒ my work done in vain so, I call on you...Yeshuah† please take all my complaints straight to our Father† ‒pull me out this agonizing drain forgive all my trespasses turn me over‒ to at least one heart who feels the same ‒a bit of hunger a bit of tame to do works of Good‒ in Your† sweet, sweet name
(July 24, 2019)—Our mothers. Veils. Mercy. I’ve been having a hard time putting my thoughts on paper lately. It may not seem like it but it’s still true. I end up writing it in my head then when I sit down, the same thoughts that I had don’t come out. I didn’t want to write anymore. For the past week or so, I’ve been in a battle with my self I guess you could say. I’m tired. I’ve been doing this work for seven years now. I’ve been writing and teaching and learning for over 10. I’m tired. But I’m to keep going.
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