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do you feel the same? that without faith, grace had no name that before salvation the war looked like a game that addictions weren’t monsters, just pets to be tamed? the excuses never made sense no matter how many times I explained I had no acquaintance with restraint or refrain Indulgence was my starlight; bright but only in the dark, everywhere and impossible to contain and I always found someone else, knew someone else, found another way to blame **** it all, I jumped in grinning into the brawl, I ran the gamut of lust in my fall and it all started with red hot frustration and sweet, soft temptation and chances to cheat and win and do it again without facing weakness and I gave in to it all opportunities to fake it through the hatred and I lied through black smiles at them all pain makes the feeling heart bleed, and the gritted teeth crack, and the demons feed, and the memories all come back maligned and the hatred plants the seeds then the anger waters the vine and the brokenness strengthens the thorns then the blackness starts to climb up my solid ground, up my aching spine, up my choking throat, upside down into my mind and I reached for bottles, and I reached for pills, and I knelt for coke lines but I never knelt for the divine what would a God do with a vommiting waste of my kind? judgement sounded so unkind we men are wretched things sang to me in every song, in it’s every every line, in each instrument’s chime and anyway… anyway… who could overcome spent time no, this slow burning suicide was my forever, my chosen lover, mine all mine because look what I had done with what I was given, look at the killer I had been look at the people I had run through and scars I had gouged caressing my sins how would I ever begin again? What does it even look like to begin again? I found rock bottom will a shovel and a map I was digging and it was my intention and I was never coming back I laid in my own grave how many people can say that? I had burned every love letter family ever written me without thinking twice and I had spit in the face of everyone who cared enough to run to my rescue with advice and I had bullied the playground and never played nice I had cut the wrists of my own life in unstitchable ways with self destruction as my knife to be sure I died but just when it was truly just a few words from over, just where my poems always ended hanging in the margin of the page just past that last line something was amended I wanted to live and I wanted to be happy and I was scared that I never could be in those last twilight words on the paper, written by the me everyone had met, peddling pretty failure as I sank in my waste, choking on my entire personality’s behavior under the ominous weight of all my precious loss and terrible regret for everything I had wagered I met my savior He didn’t ask for blood or gold or indignity or shiny things I owned and He didn’t punish under foot or berate with words for my every action He didn’t condone He didn’t hate me and He wasn’t concerned with what was past now and He didn’t offer a loan He just spoke to me, in that hushed moment, to tell me I didn’t have to be alone quietly, He said simply, “set down that house key, and come home” Lord thank you Lord God thank you for letting me finally rest for saving me for letting me come home
0
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
Key to a House
do you feel the same? that without faith, grace had no name that before salvation the war looked like a game that addictions weren’t monsters, just pets to be tamed? the excuses never made sense no matter how many times I explained I had no acquaintance with restraint or refrain Indulgence was my starlight; bright but only in the dark, everywhere and impossible to contain and I always found someone else, knew someone else, found another way to blame **** it all, I jumped in grinning into the brawl, I ran the gamut of lust in my fall and it all started with red hot frustration and sweet, soft temptation and chances to cheat and win and do it again without facing weakness and I gave in to it all opportunities to fake it through the hatred and I lied through black smiles at them all pain makes the feeling heart bleed, and the gritted teeth crack, and the demons feed, and the memories all come back maligned and the hatred plants the seeds then the anger waters the vine and the brokenness strengthens the thorns then the blackness starts to climb up my solid ground, up my aching spine, up my choking throat, upside down into my mind and I reached for bottles, and I reached for pills, and I knelt for coke lines but I never knelt for the divine what would a God do with a vommiting waste of my kind? judgement sounded so unkind we men are wretched things sang to me in every song, in it’s every every line, in each instrument’s chime and anyway… anyway… who could overcome spent time no, this slow burning suicide was my forever, my chosen lover, mine all mine because look what I had done with what I was given, look at the killer I had been look at the people I had run through and scars I had gouged caressing my sins how would I ever begin again? What does it even look like to begin again? I found rock bottom will a shovel and a map I was digging and it was my intention and I was never coming back I laid in my own grave how many people can say that? I had burned every love letter family ever written me without thinking twice and I had spit in the face of everyone who cared enough to run to my rescue with advice and I had bullied the playground and never played nice I had cut the wrists of my own life in unstitchable ways with self destruction as my knife to be sure I died but just when it was truly just a few words from over, just where my poems always ended hanging in the margin of the page just past that last line something was amended I wanted to live and I wanted to be happy and I was scared that I never could be in those last twilight words on the paper, written by the me everyone had met, peddling pretty failure as I sank in my waste, choking on my entire personality’s behavior under the ominous weight of all my precious loss and terrible regret for everything I had wagered I met my savior He didn’t ask for blood or gold or indignity or shiny things I owned and He didn’t punish under foot or berate with words for my every action He didn’t condone He didn’t hate me and He wasn’t concerned with what was past now and He didn’t offer a loan He just spoke to me, in that hushed moment, to tell me I didn’t have to be alone quietly, He said simply, “set down that house key, and come home” Lord thank you Lord God thank you for letting me finally rest for saving me for letting me come home
brandon-barnett
Written by
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
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