Pieces

“can you fix it?” she asked, gingerly holding the glass shards in her hands.

He looked at her hands, cut up and bloody, yet hesitantly holding up the pieces for him to see. He looked at her face and searched for answers. How could someone like her be so scarred? How had they failed to notice her dying a little more each day?

“I know it’s a mess.” She said softly.

As he peered at the pieces in her hands, his own heart ached at the sight of a once wild, beating heart, that now lay faded and lifeless. “It’s taken a lot of damage.” He muttered to himself.

The girl heard him, and she shrank back, closing up her hands over the pieces once again. She winced as they spliced her wrists, yet she didn’t loosen her grip.

He watched in horror and awe as the blood dripped down her wrists. In spite of the pain it kept causing her, she kept trying to hold on.

The girl found herself shrinking under his gaze. Don’t look too closely. She pleaded silently. She has tired, so tired of this road she had traveled. She had searched far and grown weary, and the longer she looked, the more hopeless it seemed. Every time she offered up a piece, it came back in more pieces than before. The stains were too great; the edges too jagged.

“I need to see it if you want it fixed.” He tried to tell her.

Still the girl held tight. What would happen if she let go? What if he only made it worse? Yet she scoffed at herself, because what could be worse than what she already had? She tried to slowly uncurl her stiff fingers. The blood had started to dry. One by one, she pried her own fingers away and with every finger released the greater her dread grew. She paused—only halfway done.

The man stretched out a hand to take the pieces from her, but her fingers immediately clutched them again tight. The shards embedded themselves into her palms and tears sprang into her eyes. “I can’t.” She whispered. “I’m not ready.” 

According to God

Beautiful Eulogy is one of my top favorite bands, hands down. These lyrics have been on my mind a lot lately. So much good truth to absorb. I wrote them all down by hand in a little notebook I have because that helps me actually remember better.

I'm a believer
Sometimes I believe the lies of the deceiver
The lies of seeds when they sprout
They lead to seasons of spiritual amnesia
Deep seeded self doubt
That creeps in my conscious feeds my fear
And keeps me up at night conquered by
Critical thoughts my mind is prone to conjure
When it wanders, watching my failures, play back play back on repeat
I'm trying to change the chain of events but
Can't rewind to find the delete, button to push
I'm on the edge its like the world is about to end
I'm in the middle of Armagaddon with
No arms, no weapons, no armor for protection
It's the testing of my faith and
I know the answers but instead I'm just guessing
Like I forgot that God was my father and
I was set apart for his on possession
His word is my armor and my protection
Against the enemy's deception
But I still question
How can i receive
Such an incredible blessing when I feel like I'm less than
Because I went through a divorce am I
A second rate Christian I know that's a lie
So I won't listen through Christ I'm forgiven
Im being formed into his image
According to God I was called from darkness into his marvelous light
He is near to the broken-hearted faithful to finish what he started


Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?

[Verse 2: Odd Thomas]

As a child I struggled to
Identify most of my misplaced anger and rage
Dealing with a whole emotion of consequences
Based on the way I was raised
The feeling for affection and affirmation
Adjusted performance to get attention and
Gain some sort of acceptance but found
I was always rejected and pushed away
Deep scars feeling of not belonging
Caused hall emotional walls and any
Attempt to recover from a lost of
Confidence was incredibly small
The residual effects of abandonment
Had me observing my character flaws
And viewing them all as insufficiently
Capable of relating or growing with God
I believed these lies to be true for me
My experience was the proof for me
Up to the point where I can sense Christ
Relentless love and complete pursuit of me
And spoke to me offering me hope and life
Through his word showing me his beauty
Changing my perception and giving me
Perspective of the way God truly viewed me
A man who was prized and pardoned
And chosen before the world's foundation
His whole possession, his royal priesthood
I'm part of his holy nation
I'm his friend, I'm valued completely cared for
Enough for Christ to purchase
According to God I'm an adopted child
With intimate access created with purpose

Diary of a College Kid (pt.1)

I'm dying inside, and no one is noticing.

Sometimes it's so overwhelming I can feel the pain rising, it courses through my veins and I cannot speak. I clench my jaw and I flex my fingers, trying to erase the ache inside. It's as if there's a dark hole in me, and it threatens to swallow everything. I tell myself that I'm fine on my own. What does it matter if people come or go? I don't need them around anyway, right? But it's a lie. People are always leaving. I just wish someone would stay. For someone to be able to see past these lies I've become. If you smile bright, they'll believe anything you say. If you laugh and joke, they'll never see the pain. They'll never see the emptiness that's threatening to crush your very soul. Yet at the same time, there's a battle in my mind. A conflict in my heart. Wanting someone to see, yet not wanting anyone to know about the darkness that resides. What would they think? How could they care? The disappointment in their eyes is not something I'm willing to see. Both sides of the battle wage inside of me. Like tectonic plates breaking in the sea. A rift so deep, so vast, so dark, that no one would be able to survive. So I cling tightly to this broken heart, and their jagged pieces cut only me. Pain inflicting more pain. Sleepless nights and consistently red rimmed eyes. I've managed to become the master of cover up this time. One well contrived lie, and a bottle of concealer—there's no way they'll ever really see.