Garbage Post: Edmond Watches Flowers

That one closet where tears flow

God I’m sorry or am I sorry

Magnetic mirror battle again

And this season trying to tell me my prayers are trash

What do I know

What does the accuser of brothers do in stereo

They say I’m running from dreams but they’re nightmares, I do care, dark clouds appear, bright days get smeared, accidents blind, rear-ended

God knows my fears but in anything am I sincere, shaking nervously at the pier while looking out, some days it’s fear, laziness, or doubt, I’m swinging as hard as I can, not, I’m swinging as hard as I can

Strangers say there’s nothing to fear but I’m in enemy territory and it’s hard to hear over spiritual warfare battles, ears and glass rattle

They laugh missing all clues, unprepared without armor, weak shoes, false news, immature terrible twos, whore of Babylon a popular muse, see scars and wounds, rollercoaster ride eyes, barrel roll in mud soaking up satanic highlights, I understand their amazement neon temptations do shine bright, bodily lusts an agent Smith type fight

Back to my closet where I ponder obedience and discipline asking God for strength regarding obeying and listening

And this season is all about priorities.

What are you thinking about after reading this?

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