Am I really living if I feel death around me?
Is it really living to feel death around me all the time?
What is life without death?
How can you live, if you don’t die?
If I could free my body of the pains, would I?
I had the opportunity to purge the discomfort and I didn’t.
Burn the misery, and I extinguished it.
Cut the heartache, and I patched it up.
Smash the sorrow and I glued it back.
Ruin the sadness and I built it again.
Shut the horror and I opened it.
I created a home inside a tornado.
The spiral guides my downfall.
I’m a failure.
Failing keeps my blood pumping.
The churning black liquid.
I don’t want to save myself.
But the Lord keeps saving me.
He's not done with me.
"Lord please save her for me." - Bryson Tiller (Exchange)
She's a broken spirit
With a flesh-driven will.
Evaporated water drawn into the clouds of the world.
Raise her above them.
Let her see your light, a lantern in the tunnel.
Doubt sprinkles her eyelids, glittering shame.
A veil of the world. Avert her eyes like a firefly.
Don't let her fall.
What is on your heart, God?
Tell me so I don't fall.
Save me so I don't drown.
Carry me so I don't faint.
Hug me so I don't cry.
Uplift me so I don't slide.
Fill my spirit with your strength.
I'll walk into the fiery pit out of my own will.
Don't let me.
Please don't let me.
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