Calls a number, switches channels in seconds.
Wished to have pleasures, skin to skin, longed for touch.
Hits and punches. Down the line, it's actions can cross the lines.
I didn't want to do them.
Nothing I do is my own really.
Where it's either my fleshy, hairy minds and crowns, or it's the light and God's presence that guids my hand.
My navigation is haywire, vision obscene and covered with blinds.

I don't want to be in this body.
Nope not because of it's shape not size.
Not because I am chiseled or not.
Not fat nor skinny. No, not because of that.
I just hate the decisions it makes, its ideas it has, the vision it has, makes. Me. Sick.

From a far-off land.
He wasn't popular.
She wasn't liked.
He was weak.
She was always tired.
He was a runt.
She was called a '****'.
They were never in a team, when the kids played football.
They were pushed when they ran.
They were unloved, pushed around.
Left alone in the canteen.
Where they sat in the seats with dust.
Yet. They were called.
From the heavens.
God called. How could someone so broken like them. Be loved?
But people like them learnt to love others.
But people like them are humbled and was willing to learn.
But people like them were broken so that they can be made stronger.
It was nothing about them though.
Nothing about if they would fail or not.
It was.... Nothing about others too.
It was about God.
He called them his children.
And so does me and you. :)

afraid to ruffle your feathers, i avoid your waves.
i lie so that you won't be annoyed, "the usual."
am i your servant that i should be afraid? That i should be...pleasing you?

ashamed of my life.
ashamed of something, someone that gave me life.
i shouldn't be ashamed of saying "God."
i shouldn't be ashamed of hesitant to say "Lord"

i am not gonna say sorry.
i am not gonna say sorry for something i did right.
so please.
listen to me.
thank you for listening to my mess.
but.
hear me out on this.
please.

i dont want to be part of this.
i dont want to be part of the destruction of myself.
i dont want to be one of them.
i dont want to be me.
i want to be him.

A deadly drop!
A ghastly death!
Oh gosh! How can I survive this death!?
Anxiety crashes in.
Sweat pearls welled up.
Ahhhhh......oh...hold on...
(Walk a little closer)
(Holds on to the nearest Boulder)
Oh...a staircase leading down.
Well...those are for nothing...

I hope you saw the smile at the side walls of your eyes.
I hope you saw the wave of a hand underneath your eyes.
I hope you see the pain we have even behind the painless smile.
I hope you see how far grace has carried you.
I hope you see the faces of those who are dying in the inside.
I hope you see the swaying of the trees and the laughter of birds remind you that you are alive.
That you are His.
And He is yours.

Short dreams.
Temporary beliefs.
Short-term hype.
Falling heights.
New "dreams" bought with money, dreams as sweet as honey.
It already ended when it started.
Coming back to only leave me dream-less, again, with temporary gains.
Stars I want to touch.
Joys I want in my heart.
I want living dreams.
To live in a breathing, moving, real dream...
A dream that is real.
A meaning, sealed.
A goal more valuable than gold.

It’s childlike, yes, but it’s not without meaning.
Perhaps that’s the way it expresses itself.
It’s emotional, yes, but it’s not without strength.
Perhaps the cork has come loose.
It’s stubborn, yes, but it’s not without willingness.
Perhaps it simply gets caught in itself.
It’s messy, yes, but it’s not without beauty.
Perhaps it finds comfort in chaos.
It’s stoic, yes, but it’s not without empathy.
Perhaps it is afraid of revealing itself.
It’s a dreamer, yes, but it’s not without drive.
Perhaps it’s inspired by the clouds.
It’s a perfectionist, yes, but it’s not without humanity.
Perhaps it is afraid of disappointing itself.
It’s angry, yes, but it’s not without reason.
Perhaps it doesn’t understand what’s around it.
It’s anxious, yes, but it’s not without cognizance.
Perhaps I’m working towards peace.

What you give, you will receive.
You give hatred to another, hatred would come back.
You give love, love would be given back to you.
It works in such mysterious ways, this system.
You give hatred to God, you still get love back...
I love that...

Please help the hurt, the broken, the shattered the sick.
Please don't leave them, ignore them and crush them to smithereens.
Even a weakly burning wick, I pray please don't quench it. There's still some life left in that weak frame of a body.
Please don't break even the weakest branch, they're fragile, please handle with care.

Even the "fortunate" ones, give something.
Do something.
Don't just sit down all day being sad for the people who are hurting.
Get up and do something.
They will continue to rot, to wither if someone doesn't come and give them a hug, a smile, to know that someone cares for them.
Loves them despite their weaknesses.
Who loves them despite being outcast of society.
i hate that.

"outcast" of society.