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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem with no title, titled by you.

Submitted: September 20, 2016

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Submitted: September 20, 2016

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P.W.P

~

“Why do my writings sound sad?”

This question I’ve gotten a lot

And to tell you the truth it makes me quite mad

Because in my heart a battle is fought

For my broken soul that was lost

Forgetting about the eternal cost

That I could not pay as I sit and debate

With myself about at what rate I’ll drown in my past fate

I see in a mirror dimly not full

As to Him I look, not wanting this lull

Loss of faith torn and tatter

Though I have yet to shatter

Justice is in His hand

I know this, grace so grand

My body has no hope

Apart from Jesus my being would mope

I’m hurt by what I see

A culture gone from glee

Taken aback to a time

When about such things I could not form a rhyme

Jehovah, my Sword and Shield

Take me out into this harassed field

Where the harvest is much

Laborers not as such

Bolden my breath and humble my heart

For without You my words are sour and tart

I need You, Spirit, to break through

Make me make me make me new………

 

Wait, is that the end of the strife?

 

Does this mean I can now live this thing called “life”?

 

Not until in Zion I dwell

Will there stop being this hell

But joy do I find in Jesus and His bliss;

This life’s pain I will not miss.

 

So title this poem

Because I cannot

Sift through it like a comb;

Search for what many before have sought.

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 P.W.P. All rights reserved.

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