Called holy, all the time.
Too kind, that's my tag I wear sometimes.
More open is my friend's request.
More curses is what they want to get.
Trying to fit in, used to be my goal.
Now that left me cold.
Holding on to Rocky seas.
Trying to find ground on nothing.
Holding tight to my own hands, I used to do.
But, now I know that makes me a fool.
Silence was my armour.
Voice, was their trigger.
I used to think that way.
And maybe I still do.
My voice, triggers them to shoot me so that others don't have to be shot.
Silence was when they themselves are shot and need comfort when they know it isn't "their" fault.
When silence was their time, their space to finally unravel the war inside their minds.
Voice and silence.
When hand in hand.
Works well with his plan.
God's plan! His plan! Fault like putting the blame always on something else, someone else and sometimes we have to like really be brave and admit it's our fault, the problem is in us. Then we work towards it. And get better. Just have to know when to speak and when to be silent.