it's not very long you know...
if you really think about it.
thinking you are still young but you are halfway around the clock.
whatever you do, its recorded.
whatever you do, it matters.
you are just passing by.
just a mist, you are gonna fade away and die.
your life compared to eternity, your life is just a tick on the clock, just a breath breathed, a mist blown.
you can't get them back.
you can't earn some more.
you can't ask time to slow down.
if it's gone, it's gone.
if it's wasted, it's wasted.
you know that...right?


(Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. - James 4:14)

Hopes and dreams.
Shunned before my eyes.
Put out by cold fingers.
Lost in time.
White walls, repeated calls, weeping white walls stared straight back at me.
And loneliness was all I see.
How one took in biscuits and cups of tea for acquaintances.
And tears told bedtime stories to lonely ones.
And if time permits, their families would come and take a look.
Only to meet another tear.

But, maybe hopes and dreams still survived, and tears are not the end of bedtime stories.
To cause urgency and to cause me to love.
And if time permits, maybe one can be set free.
Behind those dull walls lay lives to be changed and eyes to be opened.
Only if time permits.  
Maybe this place isn’t so hopeless after all.

lead me into your presence Lord.
use the real me.
i give you this shell LORD!!
Take this hollow, fake, ritualistic shell i have!
use the REAL me!
enough of the lies, the hate, the anger, the stress, the anxiety, the distractions, the rituals, the repetitions!!!

break this shell, and i PRAY IN YOUR NAME, that it would never, NEVER come back!!!!
i am tired of this fake me.
this ritualistic me.

use me.
the real me.
mold me.
the real me.
not the shell.
not the shell that made that space for the voices to fill in like the spaces in Russian dolls.
no, not ever.

Again and again I go back to it.
To its slimy and suffocating grasp.
It’s clawed grip on my heart.

Why am I not committed?
Maybe a part of me likes this world I am in.  
Maybe a part of me likes how broken the world is.
Maybe a part of me doesn’t want the world to get better.
My spirit and flesh is weak then who can I fight with and against?


Don’t let me go there again....o please.
I want to be led into that promised land.
What if I can’t make it?
What if I am not perfect.
Not the perfect leader...the perfect child of God.
Why am I stressing?
Can’t
      B r
E a the.

Oh the pain of the grip on my heart.
It’s claws digging deep.
It’s claws crushing it.
Can’t
B r E
A t
H.      E....

I was dying.
Wasn’t even trying to survive.
I was fading and withering away as I lived.
And I didn’t even know.
Didn’t know such things are still relevant today.
About what Jesus did before I even came to be.
So ignorant.
How foolish and stupid I was to think I deserved and earned this love.
I didn’t care about him.
What he did.
I didn’t seem to know his love was so deep.
He died. For a criminal like me.
He knew me.
And I didn’t even know him.
Or recognised who he was.
I never even knew him before I was born.
We stood in front of the angry crowd on that day.
they demanded to free me.
And they let me live.
Jesus died.
For me.

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...

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