#spiritualstruggle - Hello Poetry

Giving myself odd looks, while trying to even the score— pointing out my faults like counting sins on abacuses. Too many to tally, and every action I take I just hope adds up to something. But I’m outnumbered by myself. Feels like an inverted midnight— too heavy to be noon. Doing the most, while barely praying at all— maybe because doubt multiplies faster than faith settles. Failures pile up like fractions with no common denominator— just me, subtracting reasons to believe, dividing purpose by disbelief, and hoping somehow I’ll solve it all to find some peace. Trying to count what I can still hold, not out-of-hand habits or dust-covered promises. My Bible feels more antique than answers— pages heavy with silence until I wiped it off and saw… another layer still hiding underneath. Like dusk, again. But this time, _I opened it— and let it open me._

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Jul 17, 2025

Jul 17, 2025 at 5:25 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Fault Lines & Fractions

Giving myself odd looks, while trying to even the score— pointing out my faults like counting sins on abacuses. Too many to tally, and every action I take I just hope adds up to something. But I’m outnumbered by myself. Feels like an inverted midnight— too heavy to be noon. Doing the most, while barely praying at all— maybe because doubt multiplies faster than faith settles. Failures pile up like fractions with no common denominator— just me, subtracting reasons to believe, dividing purpose by disbelief, and hoping somehow I’ll solve it all to find some peace. Trying to count what I can still hold, not out-of-hand habits or dust-covered promises. My Bible feels more antique than answers— pages heavy with silence until I wiped it off and saw… another layer still hiding underneath. Like dusk, again. But this time, _I opened it— and let it open me._

17

Retreat back into the skeleton trees Return into the darkness I dwell inside- The phantom wounds I swore I would never possess Narcissism worn as a crown of tragedy Blatant state of moral disrespect ages Ethical dilemmas are faltering again How I consider the spent dandelions Their seeds await winds westward turn When will God give back the delirious? Looking like a hollow fortune teller's orb Grave flowers buried beneath springtime's momentum I swing from gentle tendrils in my mind Morose-I hang among the drying corpses I think I am glitching in & out Static & repetitive; sand to the flame A burden born into a sea of glass Black mirrors reflecting & replicating All my shameful methods to keep it together fail will greatness Crash & burn like a shark obsession Apex predator squirms in my basement Like a hearse prison, I am stitching my own lips shut with barbwire Foolproof & fireproof, endure the chains of infamy; ****** mouth mumbles Crawling back into the light Eyes are blinded by Jesus Walking on ice pools like an afterglow The Devil screams for my solace & allegiance & I declare no to all of the above I sell my soul to the empire of the fate of dark waters

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Apr 28

Apr 28, 2026 at 11:19 AM UTC

blackcatpoetry

Dark Waters

Retreat back into the skeleton trees Return into the darkness I dwell inside- The phantom wounds I swore I would never possess Narcissism worn as a crown of tragedy Blatant state of moral disrespect ages Ethical dilemmas are faltering again How I consider the spent dandelions Their seeds await winds westward turn When will God give back the delirious? Looking like a hollow fortune teller's orb Grave flowers buried beneath springtime's momentum I swing from gentle tendrils in my mind Morose-I hang among the drying corpses I think I am glitching in & out Static & repetitive; sand to the flame A burden born into a sea of glass Black mirrors reflecting & replicating All my shameful methods to keep it together fail will greatness Crash & burn like a shark obsession Apex predator squirms in my basement Like a hearse prison, I am stitching my own lips shut with barbwire Foolproof & fireproof, endure the chains of infamy; ****** mouth mumbles Crawling back into the light Eyes are blinded by Jesus Walking on ice pools like an afterglow The Devil screams for my solace & allegiance & I declare no to all of the above I sell my soul to the empire of the fate of dark waters

29

"God, I really Should be better — But there will always be __Saturdays__, before __Sundays__ And I live in between them" A sinner’s prayer

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Dec 10, 2025

Dec 10, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Between Days

"God, I really Should be better — But there will always be __Saturdays__, before __Sundays__ And I live in between them" A sinner’s prayer

6