It's like the salty sea,
a teaspoon of time in your presence,
every second seems serene,
the silence sets the scene,
they say protect your peace,
my fears i will release.

What do you do when the flowers start to blossom,
but you're grinch-green like buttercup,
when no drugs can get you high like a power puff,
life is coming at you like mojo jo jo,
hoping for a discount but you don't have a promo,
pains pricked the bubble that you made with jokes.

Carrying a code of conduct in the last quarter as twenty twenty runs passed you,
trying not to drop the baton and let down the team.

Seems like there's holes in your bucket,
cause nothing holds water,
it's a slippery ***** when you can't cope,
feeling like you're at the end of your rope.

Nothing fills the avoid dance,
you just want the record to replay like an encore,
numb from trying to find work like LinkedIn park.

You're not a burden for having burdens,
one things for certain,
every scene has to end,
when they close the curtain,
the playwright might flip the script,
so don't you quit,
soon you'll start to attune to the beauty of spring,
winter was long but a new song you'll sing.

Time has revealed things about myself that i'd rather un-see,
i'm not the person i thought i was,
more of a monster than i thought i'd be,
toxicity is a spectrum.

I'm at the brink of my ink,
the more time to think,
the deeper I sink,
it hits the fan,
the room starts to stink,
change the web of my patterns,
trying to see the link,
little extra ****** oil left in my lantern,
my light burns dimly,
you said you won't be quick to ***** a smoldering wick,
I'm tired and sick,
sad stories and tragedies,
got me feeling like faith is a fallacy,
recently all I've had is grief in my gallery,
concerned by my comfort with pain,
tell my brother not to be like professor X but I often do the same,
carry the weight of the world,
thinking that will bring some change.

If you're just about to quit,
jump, hang or slit,
I don't blame you,
this place can break you,
before you leave,
have you ever been?
have you ever seen?
The pitiable prince of peace?
I don't refer to the replicas but the real thing,
the true King,
have you ever picked up his call and let his words ring?
don't leave his message unread,
if you feel like the walking dead,
he's prepared a table for those who,
thirst for water and hunger for bread,
I can't guarantee an easier road,
but I can testify that trusting Jesus lightens the load.

After visiting his gallery,
I was perplexed by his power,
curious of his character,
lopsided by his love.

I hope he gives us enough to hold on.

Can't forget the depths from which we were brought,
that would waste the weight of all
we were taught,
the tension in the string,
as puppets pass the plate,
hoping it will decide their eternal fate,
little knowing the price was paid in full,
sometimes it matters where you go to school.

Now the brain is bullied and battered,
as the oppressor is the professor,
divulging deceit so they can never find their feet,
there's a dependency on piety as to a diety,
drinking from a stagnant stream,
thirsty for fresh waters,
calling all sons and daughters to the river of life,
branch on to the vine that satisfies the soul.

Wrestling in the centre of the ring,
the compression in the spring,
once slaves to the waves that toss,
count it all as loss just to know the one who paid a great cost.

As you fall from the nest,
its frightening at worst thrilling at best,
thrown in to the ocean without a life vest,
figuring out the host like an invited guest,
writing a learn as you go kind of test.
I know you're seeing the tragedies of society and existence but I hope that you'll join the resistance and find some persistence as you seek hope in the Son.

My fellow eaglet how we want you to fly,
to find strength in His wings and touch the sky,
to find healing and testify,
there is no rush,
the pressure can make it feel like you'll crush,
but I know you're a diamond in the rough,
We'll be here to help you fly again,
I can't wait till you're free MB,
I love you my gee.

Our lion, our pillar, our papa,
you're as constant as the millet or maize meal we know you'll always want for supper,
don't even get me started on how you've loved my mother.

The eternal drives to get our education,
with Westlife, Bryan Adams moving my present battles with infatuation,
I'm glad that you eventually transitioned to British Broadcasting Corporation,
the constant encouragement and affirmation,
the care, correction and redirection,
the freedom and support,
the discipline and the remorse,
these words come short,
how could I ever repay?
What else can I say,
I get writer's block when it comes to you,
maybe because your life leaves me speechless,
perhaps your love ties my tongue.
when all is said and done I'll always be thankful for you Obi-Wan.
With love,
Your son.