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Poetress2 Dec 2018
I'll proclaim it from the Mountain tops,
I'll proclaim it by the Sea;
That Jesus Christ, lived and died,
to set His Captives free.
~
I'll proclaim it to the multitudes,
I'll proclaim it to the few;
That Jesus came, to heal the lame,
and give His life for you.
~
I'll proclaim it to the wealthy,
I'll proclaim it to the poor;
That Jesus Christ, shed His blood of life,
to forgive our sins e'er more.
~
I'll proclaim it to the weary,
I'll proclaim it to the strong;
That Jesus lived, free from sin,
not once did He do wrong.
~
I'll proclaim it to the Saintly,
I'll proclaim it to the unsaved;
That the blood He shed, for you my friend,
was the saving grace He gave.
~
I'll proclaim it during the daytime,
I'll proclaim it during the storm;
That if you want Him, to enter in,
He'll become your friend and Lord.
Poetress2 Dec 2018
In my darkest of nights,
in my deepest despair;
I reached out my hand,
and Jesus was there.
~
His touch was as light,
as a small, baby Dove;
I could feel His compassion,
I could feel His great love.
~
He spoke to my heart,
in a still, soft voice;
And my troubled, torn heart,
began to rejoice.
~
"Hush my dear child,
do not be dismayed;
For I've walked in your shoes,
I too was betrayed.
~
I was hated by many,
through my thirty-three years;
That I walked on your land,
that I shed my own tears.
~
I too felt great pain,
when the whip dug in deep;
I knew what they sowed,
they surely would reap.
~
I've been where you are,
so I know how you feel;
Just hold my hand tightly,
and believe I am real."
Poetress2 Dec 2018
The mirror is my enemy,
its' reflection makes me cry;
For what I see, looking back at me,
is a Monster in disguise.
~
I avoid them like the plague,
I'd like to take them down;
'Cause every time, I look inside,
my heart falls to the ground.
~
A false view of myself,
is all I ever see;
For every time, I pass one by,
depression visits me.
~
I'd like to shatter all of them,
but it wouldn't change a thing;
So I will still avoid them,
I hate everything I see.
This is about a disorder I have...BDD.  It stands for...Body Dysmorphic Disorder.  I can't see what I truly look like, for my reflection is distorted.
Poetress2 Dec 2018
He is our God,
the great, "I AM;"
Who created us,
before time began.
~
He cares for us,
as nobody could;
He accepted us,
when nobody would.
~
He watched us grow,
He watched us play;
And He never once,
turned His face away.
~
The great, "I AM,"
deserves all our praise;
Not only on Sundays,
but everyday.
Poetress2 Dec 2018
Later and later, he'd come home to her,
said, "Business was booming, down where he worked;
Paperwork and deadlines, just couldn't wait,
so go on to bed, 'cause once more I'll be late."
~
She never questioned he was telling the truth,
so she slept all alone, in a bed made for two;
Day after day, and night after night,
she'd play the role of a good, little Wife.
~
Her patience ran out, her trust all but died,
as she wondered how many times he had lied;
So one night she followed him, after he left,
and if he had lied, she'd have her revenge.
~
At a two-story home, he pulled in the drive,
where a woman was waiting, arms opened wide;
She watched as they kissed, she watched the whole thing,
then something within her, snapped like a string.
~
No more would she play, the fool he had made,
and within her emerged, an Ocean of rage;
She reached in her glove box, and pulled out a gun,
tonight she was going to have some fun.
~
Up to the door, she strolled with a grin,
he never would lie to her, ever again;
Then she entered the home, through the solid, oak door,
where she found them both naked, embraced on the floor.
~
She pointed her pistol, not a word did she say,
and into their bodies, the bullets did spray;
Then she climbed into her bed made for one,
and under her pillow, she slipped the small gun.
~,
She'd never slept better, then she did on that night,
when at last from her back, she pulled out the knife;
She learned quite a lesson, about who she was,
if you ever betray her, she'll reach for her gun.
Poetress2 Dec 2018
He gives me comfort,
His love is unique;
And when I thirst,
He gives me Drink.
~
He holds my hand,
He gives me peace;
And from my storms,
He shelters me.
~
He helps me stand,
His arms outreached;
And when I cry,
He cradles me.
~
He helps me walk,
He lifts me up;
And for my Soul,
He drank His cup.
~
He died for me,
upon a Cross;
His death for me,
was worth the cost.
Poetress2 Dec 2018
She stood outside a Church one Morn,
deciding if she should go in;
Would they judge her for the clothes she wore,
or see through her lifetime of sin?
~
The people hurriedly passed her by,
without a glance or a smile;
So she lit another cigarette,
and decided to wait for awhile.
~
They were all wearing fancy clothing,
she knew she could not compare;
With the ragged dress she was wearing,
nor the wilted rose in her hair.
~
Another person passed by her,
should she enter or simply go home;
But her spirit was yearning for love,
a love she had never known.
~
She decided to go in anyway,
no matter how ***** she felt;
Their lofty glances encompassed her,
as her tender heart started to melt.
~
Where was the love she'd expected,
the love she thought she'd find there;
She sat alone in a Pew,
as the Congregation just stared.
~
Then she saw a Cross o'er the Pulpit,
oh how her Spirit was touched;
For Jesus was hanging upon it,
then she knew His love was enough.
~
She quickly rushed to the Altar,
not caring what everyone thought;
She slowly bowed her head to pray,
and she found the forgiveness she sought.
~
The Pastor knelt down beside her,
he seemed to know what to say;
"My child, if you have repented,
all your sins have been washed away.
~
She left that building soon after,
as a peace came over her Soul;
She didn't stay for the message,
for God gave her one of His own.
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