Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.
On my own, I am nothing, a mindless wanderer.
Day by day, I prostrate and kneel
Ask the Lord that through Him I might feel
steady and strong, that my steps would not be based
on pride, depression, and grudges I've misplaced.

I learned not to just ask for what I want
and trust that God will give me what I need.
And everyday my pride requires me to plead
for freedom from worldly desires
so that I can use the gifts that He requires.

Failure is always imminent upon me
but fear can never be my captor again
and when I was weaker I faced fears of rejection,
but now I know I will never be alone.

Still silence perturbs my hours
and doubt often controls my heart.
I've felt abandoned more times than I can count.
But when I try to deny Him and leave
He won't stand for it, and brings me back to cleave
to His promises that seem so lost and unclear to me.

And though I know some things with certainty,
like how I'm loved and known specifically,
I never feel these things consistently
and in fact distance from Him is basically
all that I have ever known and can see.

The only real reason I can give
for my faith and why I still choose to live
Is that words in the Bible reverberate with me
they come alive, if you read it you'll see
so I will wait for the Lord,
more than the watchman waits for the morning,
more than the watchman waits for the morning.

Most girls secretly aspire to be prom queen.
I went a different route in high school.
I frankly hated makeup and generally being a teen.
My mask read "misunderstood, mysterious, not cool."

The roots of my disgust were probably not genetic
because my sisters both happened to wear the tiara.
So I guess I never won a crown for being kind of eclectic
but somewhere out there I'll get a reward just for being Sarah.

And it won't be a flimsy plastic headpiece,
but take a form of deeper meaning,
it has value that can only ever increase,
and it will wipe away any bitterness of my not completing
a stupid family tradition of being ******* prom queen.

It is not intentional, a separation of worlds.
I am standing, waiting for when I
have to lend a helping hand. The party
has come and gone, and I am eager to be on my way.

There is a truck backing into the lot,
a U-Haul with two workers.
One is beside the truck coaxing the driver along.

There is a strange magnetism between his life and mine,
that brought him and me to the same place.
Though he never sees me,
I feel responsible to remember his face.

A dimension lapses between us,
though time and space remain the same.
Our entirely separate lives happen to cross,
but no one expects a reunion in the future.

"Fantastic four!" they've said before,
but I see nothing heroic here.
The four of us lack a bond of trust
and we were once so full of playful lust.

Among us are earth, wind, water and fire,
and everyone else seems full of desire
to know us and our sibling powers.

Fire, full of brutal wit and honesty,
all you are is cruel to me.
You treat me as the dirt beneath your feet.
But I am earth and I take your ashes in my stride
to make me stronger.

Water, you are vital to my health,
without you I would have no wealth--
you give me plants, ideas, and long ago
I saw you as my idol. Now I'm older
and no longer aspire to be who you are,
I see your flaws and try to be myself,
yet still partake in all your benefits,
those that you are willing to offer.

Oh wind, dear wind, you are my laughter!
I love you more easily than either other.
You give me hope, and sunshine,
and though sometimes I'm overwhelmed,
over all I'm so glad we are family.

I am earth, and I am always in shadow,
though you don't mean to put me there.
Under the radar, I love you each
and miss the days when we were young,
before envy, competition, and distance
were ever able to separate us.

I don't want to be chased or pursued
or judged or abused.

I want to reach into my mind's recesses
and tap into my wildest places.

When I'm on top of my own world
I'll finally find myself unfurled

and nothing will suppress my glee
of unveiling what's inside of me.

I see all the world's deceptive lies
that once revolved around my demise

but this time I will not falter,
and instead I'll be standing at the altar

waiting for my Bride of life
to erase my doubts and be my everlasting wife.

Dear Higher Being,
My rage practically makes me too blind to write
that you would be so omnipotent, yet abandon my plight.
It isn't any wonder that I question said power
Seeing as you constantly enable my devour.
What was once easy to distinguish
is now hazy and cause for my anguish
I separate myself from you
because I hate all the things you do.
Call it selfish, immature, spiteful and stupid,
I will always find what you allow to happen to me putrid.

Beauty is all around me, it's in everything I see.
From fixed up barbies to the wind in the trees,
I'm aware of its power to compress an hour
into one tiny moment of awe and admiration.
If this is all I see, would there be any beauty left for me?
I'm not so sure I fit the bill, for beauty is still,
and I am like a hive of bees, with all the conflict inside of me.
But just by watching beauty be,
some chaos stops and ceases to be,
So whether I'm beautiful or not, I don't let the outcome be my lot.
Rather my oasis lies in noting beauty, like the skies.