Take me home Lord or please leave me be
It's hard enough alone why can't you see?
You gave me time to live and time to be free
So let me suffer my own way so I can be me

Say something Lord so we know you're there
I don't need miracles just a sign that you care
My friends are crying from sorrow and despair
Help us as we wait on a horn blowing in the air

Take me or leave me
Bless me or reject me
Which one will it be
Tell me now Lord
Is it flesh or a soul you see?

Believing was hard even for a disciple
Their nets were full and loaves were plentiful
But they were afraid and could not be faithful
Forgive me for my weak heart is always sinful

I won't make promises anymore I can't keep
The last one I broke made someone weep
I pray now to the one who washed John's feet
And drink the wine and bread he served to eat

Take me or leave me
Doubt me or believe me
Which one will it be
Tell me now Lord
When will decide about me?

Imagine opening your eyes in the morning
Yawning at the start of a new day

Birds chirp and the sun shines into your bedroom
As you begin to gain consciousness, you may think
"I'm excited to go to school today" or
"Work will be interesting"

But in my mind the bully steps onto the stage
Get moving, start doing, it endlessly berates
Sleeping in isn't an option today

What I should do is based on my thought out inadequacies
Too fat, too lazy, the gym is where you'll go
But I'm trying to exercise for wellness
Where's the distinction? I don't know.

You didn't accomplish much yesterday
Not enough was done
You should have been studying more
In my mind these thoughts run

You are not good enough
Endlessly on repeat
Overthinking everything
Sensitive to everything I eat.

Intense, strong emotions
cloud my mind
The bully in my head
Is never very kind.

"Just don't listen to it"
"You know that's not true"
But it's so natural and automatic
For years it's told me what to do

This same drive propelled me
To excel in school
To be athletic and involved
It was a useful tool

Before Gr. 12 it wasn't so harsh all the time
When it became more malicious
I am not so sure
I endlessly compare myself to everyone I encounter

So balance is what I'm trying to find
Its inclinations I'm trying to endure

---------------------------------------------------------­---------------

Each day a war
Each day a battle
Some are better than others
I'm striving for equilibrium
And to make peace with the bully

Demonizing the bully is not effective
Nor is dismissing its thoughts
Because bullies have their own muddled pasts
I believe my bully is a little girl that is fraught

She's trying to keep me in line
Aware of the passing of time
Anxious about what's to come
Believes in control, well at least some

I have always worried about the future
Unsure of what lies there
Control is an attempt to ensure success
In a world that is uncertain and unfair

I busy myself in an attempt to distract
But I get so busy I throw myself off track
Forget to focus on what I have learned
To recognize I needn't be so concerned

It seems as I cycle through periods of stress
When my mood and my mind are more of a mess
When my coping methods may not be the best
But rest assured I'm trying, I'm trying on this quest

The surface you see may not really be me
I try to put on a brave face
Decisions, the future, which were terrifying to me
I'm now living through, to discover who I'll be

Before I go to bed
With the bully still in my head
What quiets her is utter exhaustion
But what sustains me is an ember of hope
That what I've endured can help others
All I want to do is help others
And make a difference in someone else's life
To assist them in alleviating parts of their strife

It was warm when I arrived in that big city- a suitcase and my purse are the only legacies I had left to my name.
I could start over here.
I could be someone new here.

My driver was a nice man from Delaware- he told me that the city was old and that I was brave for traveling so far alone.
He was a kind man.
He told me the weather was going to change soon.
He knew nothing about me... I don't think I knew anything about me.

We got to this broke down apartment over in West Philadelphia.
I remember thinking... this can't be the right address.
But it was and that was just the beginning to my endless self struggle.
I thought I could start over here.

The weather changed fast- overnight it was freezing and I was struggling to find warm enough clothes.
I remember thinking... how the **** can anyone live here?
I remember thinking ... how the **** am I going to make it here?

I learned a lot about myself that month I spent in the city.
I learned how to take a subway, how to take a bus, who to talk too and who to avoid.
I learned I can survive being alone.
I also learned.... you can't run from yourself.

You can't change as quickly as the weather.

These are the cyclical watches:
Waking dawns of healing,
Walking light of realization,
Rejoicing contentment,
Sitting afternoons of temptation,
Wandering twilight rebellion,
Wallowing nights of sin,
Shrieking midnight repentance,
Mournful watches before dawn....
These are the days of shriving.

They say expectations can never be reality.
They say expectations can never set you free.
But wait..

What about death?
What about wars?..
What about the bloodstains that's on the walls?..
What about that kid that used to sleep on a cardboard one night and now owns empires?
What about that Palestinian child inside a cage who practiced music under trees until the voice of his music got louder and louder and set him free?..

It's funny how that we keep having alarms from our dreams but we keep hitting snooze over and over again.
It's funny how that the people who struggle the most flies the highest.

And yes..
We do get dark thoughts.
Yes.
We do face dark blocks.

Look around..
Look around..
Look at the world. Look at how big it is when we zoom in.
But when we zoom out its just small and nothing.
We never know its real unless we live what they feel.
I peek inside a person and I meet a warrior.
A warrior who is sleeping, running, and daydreaming.

It's sad that I never met a warrior who's actually fighting and flying.
We are supposed to grow the earth not cut its trees.
We should quit **** and try to fly in reality.

Years ago I met a boy.
Who became the man I followed across the globe.
Who became a boy yet again, years later.
Like a child painstakingly building a sandcastle all afternoon,
Investing time, love, affection,
He trampled me before the tide ever could.

I put New York on my keyring.
I carried the loss of that little heart with me everywhere.
I carried it with me into every chance encounter.
Into every lonely late night drive.
I carried that heavy weight with me in my pocket everywhere.
Always.

I'd reach my hand into the pocket of my coat.
The familiarity of its worn edges somehow reassured me with its loss.

But then came a glimmer of something new.
And I thought, maybe this little broken heart is only a memento after all--A token.
Maybe it's not completely broken.

Today New York fell off inside my pocket.
As if to say, "It's time."

It is the loss of a loss.
It's a relief--
The chance to gain everything.
And it's terrifying.

Am I safe in your hands?
Please, make sure this castle stands.
Make it a mighty fortress.
One with a moat.
Keep my wounded heart afloat.

You must **** the Beast,
That's what I've been told,
Bring your blade 'tween its eyes,
Like in the days of old.

I must beat It and break It,
That's what I'd been told,
I must bruise It and make Its
Blood run cold.

But I would rather have It go
to some foreign land,
Or else hide with the fish in the sea,
Have It go and sleep
beneath those soft sands,
And stay far away from me.

Yet I know this Beast
would haunt me even then,
Would return and rear Its ugly head,
It doesn't matter what has been
And I don't care what the others said,
I'm putting this matter to bed!

I wrestle the beast in my arms,
Howling how I forever vow
That this beast will do no more harm,
For I am its master now.

Agony of memories shackled in soul
Loss of control

Cult raised isolation bred within youth
Eureka of truth

Abandoned by love own motherhood start
Burden of heart

Maternal disease and death's lengthy fight
Daytime to night

Caring in vain is like tightening rope
Grasping for hope

Sweet child now mortal illness attacked
Mind being racked

No support acquaintance or true friend
Alone till end

Questioning Deity in trial with doubt
Childish I pout

Weakness in battle spirit slowly died
Strength not inside

Broken wondering why His small pawn
Can't carry on