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.
RawEmotionDough 