stop using your freedom as something to cover-up the evil you are doing or have been doing.
its like using a song filled with life to cover-up death.
what. a. waste.
what a pity that such a thing would be used so wrongly.
its so selfish and evil, to make use of this free gift that Jesus suffered persecution, mocking, being looked down upon, being called a demon, and to die to give to you freely, to use it to cover it up for the knives you placed on someone's back, or the bullet you shot, with the body in a sack.
what a shame.

what a shame.

why don't you use that freedom, when the chains are gone, to give God what he deserves. All respect, All honour, All praise, All worship, All you have.  Your life.  And use that freedom to share the Gospel, so that Jesus could free their chains too through you.

its a shame many, many of us, and even me, would do such a thing.
forgive us Lord.
we have forsaken you, and abandoned you...

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

spilled some tea.
i spilled some tea.
tapped my foot on the murky seas.
with long, sword-like trees, avoiding the stomps of my feet.

money.
i need to raise money.
trying to make it up for the spilled tea.
and all the knives i shot.

sticks and stone can break my bones
and words can cut and **** with knives,
but nothing is gonna stop me.

nothing.

saw the wounds marks and I felt cold.
why?
My emotions switched off.
i think i didn't want to believe your skin was so fragile and soft.
how you have been tainted and bruised.
if the birds could feel for their young, why can't i?

Struggling to feel I sometimes force myself to cry.
then, it would be true right?
What is wrong with me?
My heart turned to stone.
and I am reluctant to pray and feed my spirit.

Lord, please take me back.

Blood dripped from the walls of my brain and i am hurt.

Wished that it could disappear as how i wish i didn't exist.

Been through storms and seas but never quite liked the memories that didn't seem to cease.

Broken glass made up my eyes and I couldn't see through the fog that seem to become ice.

But the Sun still shone. Its rays still sat on my school uniform and I didn't want to give up.  

Happier now, i sat in my room.
Listened to a song that said "fight on, fighter."
I wanted to destroy myself with more than a lighter, but the urge made me a stronger fighter.

The memories and thoughts still linger.
But with the scratched and scars, the light in me grew brighter.
and i became a fighter.

tears like bullets scarred the floors
and the floors were made of gold.
the couch was soaked in tears and i could see my fears.

i didn't know I had claws for fingers and ice for my skin.
and confusion became more familiar to me.
and sin drowned me still.

but when all seemed lost.
and when the noise seems to **** me within,
i....hear...you.

i looked beneath me and saw large,  large shoulders, far and wide.
shining with glorious white.
the oceans below was more treacherous than my rivers.
and the fire burned more than the voices in my head.

Lord, you carried me.
through and through.
on your shoulders....
black and blue

The dull caramel kettle sat on the stove.
It didn’t really want to be there. It’s cold out here.

The light in the kitchen shone past clothes and pans, the only light I could protect my eyes with.

Rushes of rivers ran in the toilet as if mountains lived in the shallow ponds on the floor.

It scared me. I thought a man with a black hat used the the tap and he heard my heavy breathing.  

It’s knitting.
And I can feel it walking out in my mind and I can feel it, looking at me as I look at it, it’s careful and eerily gentle eyes stared back at me.
Maybe it’s God’s angels protecting me.