Living is a gift
and each experience
is an opportunity.
No life is wasted,
no thing is useless,
and anything that exists
has purpose.

If I had meant that much to you
You’d have made a way to see it through
A plan to try and keep me yours
But that subject… still a little sore
So, I’ll venture out and close that door
Because I was living long before
And now I’m free to live some more
                      Just without you

How come poetry has to be so clean?
I'm terrified to let out literature,
If I don't think it would be valued,
On the poetry scene.
Sometimes life isn't good green,
So how come I have to write like it is?

You can only weigh the smoke
after the ashes.

You can only measure the man
after the tears.

Our lives resemble relics nestled within the dusty corners of
thrift shops, all drawn to these forsaken treasures that others
have overlooked. We take turns giving upon these forgotten
items a renewed affection, a fresh perspective on their worth.

For we are all broken at times, displayed for sale in the hopes
of rediscovering our inherent value, yearning to feel complete
once again. Our hearts linger in the temporal marketplace
of time, where faded dreams gather dust, and past loves
accumulate the remnants of emotions once so vibrant.

Each of our sorrows lies like a heap of tattered garments,
heavy with the weight of our experiences. We observe as
the masses pick us, some to elevate our spirits, while others
seek to let us down.

I find solace among other hidden treasures, awaiting the
discerning gaze that can recognize my true worth; indeed,
our lives resemble relics nestled within the dusty corners
of thrift shops.

Whisper the depths of the night— as angelic wrath burns away
at my soul, consuming me in a tempest of alienation, a spectre
unseen; - out of sight; I've lost my mind to my sanity that slips
through my fingers. Where, I ponder, if the appearance of a
grotesque smile will find its place in this so to claim, “beautiful
world?” I remain oblivious to the value of my treasures; until
the very essence of what I cherished fades into oblivion.

Direct my heart toward the doorway; what purpose lies in this
revelation — exposed to the harsh truth of humanity's rawness,
akin to the crude oil extracted to nourish our existence, fuelling
this artificial journey we call life.

The intellect of this age is only but artificial; what is cherished in
these times is only but superficial, fracturing the essence of love
we ought to share. For what is called to be love divided among
us, swiftly reveals the stark truth that all are not treated equal.
Casting shadows on the bonds that should unite us.

We are divided by this so-called love.

It’s not that
I don’t care
I’ve just learned
the value of my care

Measure your worth
One zero at a time.
Before the decimal
The American way.

It's okay, you don't have to pay. It's covered
By (assurance) of Grace

On Judgement of Value

Food for the world on a gold plate
Something so small has so much weight
For who can weigh eternal life
And who can say that life has a price
This world will rate and measure
Criticize and place you at its leisure
But the Lord uses a different system
Jesus took our place as spotless victim
He looks into the heart of hearts
Where the human soul resides
He moves past even the locked parts
To find where the treasure lies
He sees beneath the surface. Hidden,
Lies untapped potential; something more
And from the depths it has risen
Like waves to crash upon the shore
Who can know the mind of God
Or understand God's actions?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder
How beautiful we must truly be
For God made us in His image
And so dearly loves you and me