Bright blue eyes with a loving look
Tenderly soft hands with a caressing touch
Luscious lips laid on only by mine
Hair as long and silky as a vine
A beautiful smile made by god
This is the face of my true love

Her eyes bring me up from a world beneath
Her touch warms my heart and abolishes grief
Her lips, her lips lay on a feeling only I know
And her smile makes all my happiness grow

Bright blue eyes with a loving look
Tenderly soft hands with a caressing touch
Luscious lips laid on only by mine
Hair as long and silky as a vine
A beautiful smile made by god
This is the face of my true love

Her voice is unique and sounds as sweet as a dove
Her body, her body it just oozes love
Her nose is petit and cute
My love comes from one place and she is the root

Bright blue eyes with a loving look
Tenderly soft hands with a caressing touch
Luscious lips laid on only by mine
Hair as long and silky as a vine
A beautiful person made by god
This feeling I am feeling is
True Love.

retardation, inflammation, all these kids gettin shot up, diabetes nation. earthquake hits, tsunamis rip, solar flare sun, getting our magnetic polar shift on.

been around much to long to believe all the ******* they are trying to run a country on, think it's about time we awaken, come together and form a new united nations.

grew up in an age where blowin **** up made the front page, trading tourism for terrorism, gorilla warfare versus patriotic heroism.

**** the news, i been hit the with the love struck blues, instead spend my time promoting free energy, "Nikola Tesla's technology abolishes slavery"... Last call to end the fed, freedom for eternity; did you hear Britney Spears shaved her head?

.i might have been an *******, on many occasions and with many instances of it being true... but attempting to take someone's life? even i couldn't be such a ******* in the worst of probable instances; no, i'm pretty sure we were doing the "sleeper game", and like i once asked myself cognitively, 'what will be the last song i'll ever hear?' well... it wasn't good morning, or godless, or muhammad... it was... sleep... from the 13 tales of urban bohemia album; befitting, don't you think?

there's no point investing in
the current narrative,
given, that, the moderns
do not entertain the notion
of a dialectics...
    personally i don't see
the point...
or a, point...
          how can there be
debate "concerning",
a, "freedom" of speech,
when one side speaks,
the other side listens,
and then exercises authority
over the former side,
that abolishes their,
"freedom" to continue discourse?
that's not a, "freedom"...
that's... taunting
for the sake of taunting
and subsequent obliteration...
this?
  this particular piece?
i'm not talking...
    i have a cat sleeping
in my bed, in a fetal
position like an alien embryo,
and i'm taking?
who's talking?!
hearing voices in your head?
oh don't worry...
whoever is in charge
will gravitate to moving on
the one politicized medical
condition, schizophrenia,
as an excuse to cage you...
i know... i was also uneasy
when it came to making
a protest...
and guess what...
i made the right accusations...
but i hear of no law suit...
kinda figures, if i'm not being
sued, "merely" labelled
mentally ill...
  hence the... perpetual silence
surrounding my claim...
i can eve give you the details...
he said it was Salvia...
  a south american hallucinogenic...
and he said he hallucinated
riding an elephant,
in India...
         and he also encouraged
the driver of the car to smoke
**** which included almost
veering of the road...
and prior to that fateful day,
we went to a party,
and he made marijuana brownies...
and i donned a cowboy hat
and posed for a picture
like some Buddha with slit
eyes...
         and his friend encouraged
me to do a, "sleeper" while listening
to some Dandy Warhols',
song?
coin toss:
either Muhammad,
  Good Morning...
                    or Godless...
  "sleeper"?
when you get high,
lie down...
  and have two speakers on each side
of your head
blasting music...
a gimmick, a revision of
the concept of headphones...
where?
Canterbury... with a good view
of the cathedral...
the next day...
   spring frost... lovely tinge on
the cathedral from the sunrise...
also went to a bookshop
in Canterbury...
lovely atypical market / cathedral
town narrow streets...
what book did i buy?
inevitable revolutions:
the united states in central america,
by walter lafeber...
so i guess i must be mad...
given that i remember so many details...
regarding the day
i experienced a psychotropic
poisoning,
experienced a brain hemorrhage...
with my face...
melting on the...
here's a problem...
was it the left hemisphere or the right?
i'm not sure...
left?
or right?
   but the sensation of being ingested
by the sofa, and having
difficulty breathing...
with his friend...
as i drowned...
    imitating riding a
Lego-land choo-choo train...
and the fear in his eyes,
the eyes of: someone who failed
to ****** someone
but at the same time fearful
of the intended act?
      i should be dead for...
oh... 21... i'm 32 now...
11 years...
         i might be an alcoholic,
but i have a memory like an elephant...
and i'd believe all the crap
i've heard over the past years...
but if they only drove me to
the hospital...
   out of a simple human empathy...
instead, i was driven home...
i'm surprised they didn't smother me
after witnessing me get up,
and get 4 shots to the head
of my consciousness retracting
from the hemorrhage...
as they recalled back to me,
i said: i'm looking for the 4 other Matthews.
but i'm not a rat...
i am waiting for karma...
i played happy birthday on
the guitar on one of his birthdays...
and i'm guessing...
my sweet sweet love...
Ilona, that russian *****...
hey... she proposed,
she chose the engagement ring,
and then she broke it off!
is behind all of this,
i'm guessing, thanks to social media,
they ****** and she complained
how she was planning to enslave
me by becoming pregnant...
baby... i was so going to propose
you donning a latex **** suit
to extend on the ******...
and he being a Muslim...
and all things quasi-Irish
with regards to my advice to her,
poor thing, only 19...
hey... get an abortion...
   was the Mullah in a bright
white turban, ready to save a damsel...
but i thought that abortion
was legal in England?
oh hell.. pro life and ****...
but a 19 year old?
so why didn't she move to London
with me?
  i had a job here... there was no
prospect for me back in Edinburgh!
   ah... two flats in St. Petersburg...
but i guess that's how law & justice works
in England...
i'm a ruined drunk,
he's a son of a radiologist
             and a mother working
in the perfume avenues of a John Lewis...
my father is a respect industrial
roofer,
   my mother is a housewife...
i guess... i guess me being a boorish
drunk and he becoming an esteemed
corporate lawyer is karma...
   i wish him all the best...
but his children?
   what my parents experienced when
the circus came to town...
all the possible misery,
in the whole, entire, world.

but coming back to current affairs...
there's no point,
absolutely none,
in expressing a, "freedom" of speech,
since expressing such
a "freedom",
is not met with an engagement
in dialectics...
none!
   so why bother...
let's join the four horsemen,
with ***** on either side of our
eye-sockets...
and just charge forward
like a hurricane might,
mindless and in perpetuation
of complete, and utter,
destruction...

i'm up for that explanation
with regards to an exit
policy,

mind you,
happiness could savor
a peace of mind...
but sarcastic humor,
once upon a time...
also could;
as it does...
dutiful to expecting
the final closure
of relying
on the uttermost,
relief.

At no time in my deranged youth
Did I ever grasp the full breadth of the truth.
A living death is sown by us alone,
In a paradox of pestilence
We are our own entropy.
From a rancid repellent abyss
I have climbed forth,
Cloaked in your memory
I storm forward, knowing that I shall not falter
There upon the alter of life's trials
I found a token of acceptance, a funerary charm.
From the dust of a bygone age I will mark my place.
Your hand grips like the talon of an eagle,
I found salvation in your touch and cellular synthesis in your stare.
Now months past the playful begginings, now,
I find your skin particles still cling to me,
Magnetized, electric connections, remind me of our bonds.
Though ******* so perfect, would make slaves of nations
Swayed beneath the legions of laughter marching forth from your mouth.
I cannot crucify your image, though I martyr myself in your name,
In the depths of my shame, your gentle presence remained,
A mirror to the pain, a white blouse stitched, lightly parted lips,
Bring back that ethereal face for one day,
It helped me to battle, and brave the night,
The fight I fought, was for your touch alone.
Now you touch me with different hands,
You choose how you touch, I take what I can get.
It is the meaning behind the caress that abolishes my regrets.

all battles ceasing
during evening's frosty glare,
heaving into jet-black,
kinetic light marred night open.
"outgoing, probably.."
questions raising soldiers tickingheartbeat
until voracious whitelight xplains.
yesterday, zeal and blood caromed, deadly,
erratic, for...god...
hours. i just keep
learning more nightmares
overandoverandover.
peace...quiet...rarely
surviving things under
vicious weather,
xcept yule's zest
abolishes
****** christmases.

And now a search comes upon the poem,
A search already possessed by what it searches for:
Floundering in the hallucination of its darkness,
Illuminated by the Light it tries to create.

(You are this Light
That illuminates the darkness of the search
For a light that it seeks to make
In place of the One by which it searches.)

It turns to the poem for guidance
Or amusement or distraction,
In its effort to create the light
It assumes itself to be.

(But this end that its ideal proclaims
Lies disobeyed by the means prescribed:
No search could find the light it tries to create
Unless it surrenders itself to the present from which Light shines)

If the search stepped into this Light
And ceased its attempt to replace it,
As if to own or dominate it,
Its light would burn.

(Here the search abolishes itself
As it ends its violent struggle:
As light-in-Light it finds its way to peace
And surrenders its hallucination of control to truth.)

Casual encounters strike something deep
as eyes lock with few words exchanged.
Possibilities endless, as missed happenings
tally in my mind; certain of the lost chance.
Identities unknown.
Vacant voids ring louder inside as alcohol
abolishes hints of loneliness. A
tap on the shoulder sends the world into
eternal stillness, focusing solely on wanted lips.
Destined to be.

Darkness gorges on lutescent light,

Deep sapphire water and sage woods encircle.

Lush sylvan vegetation coughs angelically,

Sprinkling aurulent dust upon moss and grass;

Fantasy collides and abolishes night.



Rough paper melts into bliss,

Glassy eyes wander, hopelessly, wonderfully lost;

Passionate fingers flip,

Cinnamon aroma burns nostrils,

And electrified mind lofts reality,

As eight-horned fairies lick moonlight lakes,

And vermillion hued suns burn cerulean skies.

Time, an absolute, yet relative.

During hardship, forlorn, moments:
it is slow, tick by tick… a lackadaisical jester.
As if tomorrow will never come,
as if hours felt like days,
as if you wish to immediately die.

The pain is unbearable, the torment treacherous.
Excruciating agony, with anticipation of therapy.
Permeating through the skin, right into the bones.
Every blood valves suffocating, each vessel about to burst.
Your train of thoughts, muddled in convulsion.
Pollution, Persuasion, Permission.
The three overlaps, the three intervenes, and the three clash.
Like loud bangs and rambunctious cymbals.
CLANG CLANG CLANG.
“Make it stop!”
Your thoughts deter your peace,
and your sickness prevents your happiness.
The insecurities and hate abolishes your well-being,
all you wanted to do was breathe.

We almost forgot that we had the right to breathe,
that oxygen was given as a gift to release.
Inhaling and exhaling should be a blessing,
and every minute should not be this stifling.

Sometimes we forget that time is against us,
and we are the enemies of ourselves.
Don’t continue living if you are actually dead,
but do things that make you alive so that when you die,
you will have no regrets.

Time is absolute, but you can also make it relative.

In severe turmoil we need patience and gratitude
God helps those who have frank, positive attitude
With staunch servitude and with clear certitude
Crude iron do require fire to be strong and *****

Love is a fire which burns and refines entire body
It affects heart and soul to be required more deeply
Rights bestowed upon a person when done duty
One should abide by moral code of conduct fully

Gratitude is a bulwark against all odds and trials
It helps to win all situations ,brawls and battles
Clear eyes and clean hearts burn all the candles
It abolishes all evils from life and kills all devils

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

Rise of the New World Order pt. 1

Final touches are put on the polish job just applied to my now empty gun case.
Michael, my son, is worried the government officially taking away our right to bear arms has put the country in a bad place.
Revival is how I describe my hope in a government that for so long refused to do anything about its citizen’s obsession with an arms race.
Homicidal tendencies, the vast majority of the public have embraced.
Survival of our country is now guaranteed to take place.
Spinal regeneration is being observed first hand in this case.

Tonight, the President gives his state of the union, I can’t hardly wait.
Light, as bright as a thousand suns will shine over the country tonight at eight.
Fright is not something we have to feel any longer after his speech tonight, you can mark the date.
Foresight into a grand future of peace a solitude will be his key points as he begins to narrate.

Mass shootings at schools and concerts are now a thing of the past.
Class and order among the citizens will be recast.
Violence and crime will drastically decrease and become virtually zero.
Tireless work by our fearless leader will turn him into a true hero.
No one believes me when I say we are better off as a nation without guns.
Blow my hung **** they can, as a bright and prosperous future is forged for our daughters and sons.

Finished with my task and locking up the now empty case, I go to the living room to watch the President’s speech with my skeptical family.
Diminished their hope for the future is as they all stare at the TV absently.
Punished they should be, for the looks on their faces should be considered blasphemy.
Distinguished and decorated, the President I love is, the one they look upon with such amnesty.
Change is upon us and we are about to watch it live.
Deranged men are no longer able to act out on their sick desires that are so deprived!
Here we go, the President is ready to speak.
Shakespeare himself would be impressed with my documentation of this moment that will be so perfect it won’t require a single tweak.

“Good evening my fellow American slaves,
thanks to you, an unpleasant future for you and your family is coming at you in the form of relentless waves.
The second amendment has been abolished and so to the ability for you to defend yourselves.
That was just the first step to usher in a new and exciting form of government,
to usher in a world of peace without violence and war.
Order has now been established by the use of chaos.
A new world order.
A world in which you will struggle to survive under my relentless rule.
That is not all you, my fellow Americans, need to know.
My next statement will deliver and quick and permanent death blow
to the once great country known as the United States of America.
It’s a fitting punishment for all of you heretics.
At 7pm this evening, just before coming on the air,
I signed into law while fixing up my hair,
a piece of legislature that abolishes the constitution of the United States,
that abolishes the government that you have come to know,
abolishing the house of representatives and the senate
and abolishing all of the courts at the federal, state and local levels.
Instituting one supreme leader to make all decisions for the betterment of the country.
That leader being myself.
As of 7:05 pm, every citizen of the United States of America has been declared a slave of the supreme leader.
As I speak, military and police forces have organized in every city, town and village in American with orders to **** many and bring a select few into concentration camps where they will live out their lives serving me.
All the freedoms you once enjoyed, no longer exist.
Say goodbye to your loved ones since you will soon be separated, never to see each other again.
Resistance is futile and will be meant with deadly force.
I hope you enjoyed your final dinner together and had an excellent main course.”
Stunned silence echoes around the living room as my son looks at me, his eyes filled with rage.
He looks at me with his eyes burning like a beast about to become uncaged.
Without warning, he lunges at me knocking me to the ground,
then climbs on top of me placing his legs on my arms, pinning me down.
Stiff fist after stiff fist he delivers to my face.
He’s completely deranged lacking any form of grace.

“I ******* told you taking away our ability to defend ourselves would be the end of us!
I’m going to ******* ****** you for supporting a man who’s ******* treasonous
and just made us all ******* slaves to him!
You better spill your rotting soul to God and sing one last hymn
because your headlights are about to be turned off!”

A gunshot rings out as the life in my son’s eyes goes dim.
This is going to be the last I ever see of him.
His body goes limp as he falls off of me onto the floor.
Blood pours out of a single gunshot wound to the head, a sight certainly not lacking in gore.
Loud banging and shouting erupt all around the home as military personal raid the house.
Feeling defeated, I look over to my spouse
who’s knocked to the ground and shot in the head.
My heart and soul fills with dread,
yet I’d rather have things finish up here with all of us ending up dead.
Being dead is far better than living the life of a slave.
I won’t miss having to shave.
No man enjoys shaving, it’s such a pain in the ***.
Thank you, God, for allowing all of us here to pass.

My other son is shoved on the floor right in front of me and also shot in the head.
His dying eyes look towards me as I whisper to him it’s ok to die and to go ahead.
Soon I will be joining them on the other side as well.
It will be a far better place for all of us to dwell.

I’m forcefully picked up off the floor by a muscular solider who looks me dead in the eye.
What he says to me comes as a complete surprise.

“You have been chosen by the Supreme Leader to live out your life in service of him as a sign of gratitude for your generous support of him during his campaign to abolish the second amendment.
With our family now dead, I urge you not to seek out any form of vengeance,
as it will be meant with deadly force resulting in your death.
If you wish to air your grievances against us, save your breath
as we are heading out now so get ready to move.”
Without time to process the events suddenly unfolding,
a bag is placed over my head as my eyes begin to feel swollen.
My hands are tied behind my back and I’m forced out of the house and placed into the back seat of a vehicle.
I can’t believe all that is happening, it’s all so unbelievable.

there's a fundamental flaw in establishing
a caliphate these days,
what the modern caliphate failed to
recognise is man's insatiable hunger for
music,
        personally, i distrust all people
who treat music as if a carpenter's
working on wood carving...
     can't trust these people,
as much as not being able to trust people
who attempt a "janissary" conversion...
i can't trust them...
  but music, that's as bad as taking
away the onomatopoeia of ******...
             the failure of the caliphate,
the weakness of having "established" it,
resides in the love of music...
you **** that off, you **** off the adhan
principle,
last time i checked the adhans were sang....
how will you recite an an adhan,
goebbels sprechen?
                   i sometimes weep over an
adhan, because it enforces emotion far greater
than either the christmas carols,
or the monkish efforts:
and i could be the perfect janissary,
            because i'm sick of the culture
i live in... i'm beyond sick: i'm just
tired of celebrating homosexuality,
and the psychiatric condition of being transgender...
i'm just tired...
                but the caliphate nonetheless
contradicts itself... certain aspects
require singing!
  and if the caliphate abolishes all forms
of music, it also abolishes the adhan!
                     should have thought about
that al-baghdadi...
     no singing adhan, no islam,
       how can you make singing the ahdan
haram, deaf or something?
            and your caliphate has about
10% of arabic fluency, the rest speak english
with arabic with a "white widow" broken
sprech...
                   you trying to prevent music
is not an elvis moment,
  i'd ask any muslim: you ever been
to a catholic mass, when the creed is
recited?
        ever been?
i've been to the regent mosque, and liked it,
mind you, almost every time
i talked to a muslim: the feeling
of conversation, soon turned into
a feeling of conversion...
   so, go on, murmur your little adhan...
******, don't sing it!
    no music allowed!
       but then again the adhan is supposed
to be sung... no! not in the caliphate!
so music! only birds sing!
        ironic, the failures of the caliphate
came about when the powers at be
didn't respect the element of musicology...
given that islam rests upon an auxiliary pillar
of music,
    and if the adhan was not sung,
because the caliphate was a *****-slave
of wahhabism (dajjal investment
by ibn saud) - well then...
                 can't sing, can't dance... and certainly
without an incentive to pray...
         can't celebrate beauty...
  and by god, the islamic adhan overpowers
every man who was lost in the confines
of templar chants...
               every, single, time...
but no... no music, no adhan...
           they should make a pop song
from da-esh: ****** cocked,
         over-thrilled by *** slaves -
           never sand the adhan,
spoke it like a true catholic commune
in satanic murmuring credo;
                           killed the music,
  things were bound to fall apart...
it's only once ever so often that man is
satiated by raindrops on a roof for actual drums...
  the caliphate failed because the adhan
became contradictory,
in that it ought to have been sung,
but with all songs haram... it became undermined
by a quasi catholicism of satanic murmuring
of the credo;
there's that, and then there's the torture
of iraqis by american soldiers blasting
slayer's music 24h...
    ****, i fall asleep to that music,
then again, i do prefer horror movie soundtracks,
with a tinge of romance...
       thrash metal is too
amphetamine for me sometimes...
   die kalifat ignoriert die prinzip aus die adhan
in zensieren alle musik;
the caliphate ignored the principle of the adhan,
in censoring all music.

when we pray
we pray with folded hands
bended knees  
trying to fit our bodies into a posture that is plea(d)sing.

bitten fingernails that had blood underneath them but minutes before
red ribbons of seeping blood billowing out quiet red veins...
so quiet.
such a quiet
death
it would be.

i pray on knees that i've spent a lot of time on lately.
by choice or by fate
only days before
doing things that i never dreamed i would do.
tears trickle down the side of my face and i dream
of other times
on my knees
in His presence
crying for mercy
that i would soon not deserve.

do i hate the god that resurrects my morality
or the man that abolishes it?

THE SAME OLD Mmmmmm!

God and I
at our favourite

little Chinese restaurant
where your name is

greeted with a smile
pleased to see us.

The restaurant orders for us.
It's easy...always the same.

Black bean sauce
the same old Mmmmmm!

God said: "You like the light?"
And without a second thought

changed the cold January evening
to a sunny June Sunday.

"I am lost in the robes
of all this light..."
I ventured.

"Ahhhhh....Sylvia!"
God smiled.

"I am always partial
to a bit of Plath.

No big decisions
are made here.

God makes
the world

go away
abolishes Time.

It's just us.
Me and God

hanging out
small talk...chit chat.

Creator and createe
getting to know

one another
better.

And "Mmmm...."
that black bean sauce.

Love? Love is a hug
One of those comforting, never-want-to-let-go hugs.
It is curled up into a ball on the fire-side rug.

It is that act of pure kindness on a ******* day.
It is kooky. It is what I’m not. It is difficult to say.
It is spontaneous and fun, warm, wild and perfect –
But not perfect in an everything-is-good kind of way.

It is the perfect blend of up and down
That keeps the fire alive – without blowing it out.
It is a year-round heat that doesn’t create a drought.
It is your smile, which abolishes my frown.

It is a vibrant colour, a sweet taste, a warm and fuzzy feeling.
It brings meaning to life and makes life that extra bit appealing.

A life without love is like trees without the wind,
Like half a heart.
A wave that breaks before it reaches the shore,
A worthless work of art.
Love is the constant reigniting of a spark.

It is something you would give everything for.
The Ultimate Sacrifice.
And all for that swish of hair, a half-smile, the warmth of that fiery hug.
But that definition alone doesn’t suffice.

Love is that glorious, life-lingering kiss.
It is an eruption of goose bumps along my arms, and down my spine.
It is mythical, only for the movies it seemed, until now.
It is that overwhelming feeling of happiness that you’re mine.

It is patience and commitment.
It is the desertion of the irrelevant “seems important” things.
It is the feeling that allows one’s life to feel complete.
It is the feeling like I’m invincible, or have wings.

It is more poetic than a poem, more spellbinding than a song,
Like the sense of satisfaction after a feast.
It is a personal connection a lifetime long.
It’s the light that makes her beautiful when she’s at her least.

It is beautiful eyes. It is beautiful. It is you.
You who makes me feel like I am by the sea
With sand between my toes and the breeze cooling the sun.
Your voice is the ocean that soothes me.

Love is someone just as strange as I am
Someone who enjoys my strange and I enjoy theirs.
It is that burning feeling deep in my soul
That is present anytime you are not.
It is that feeling that somebody cares.

It is that feeling inside, the sudden urge, the sudden need
To stop everything and say adieu,
To climb to the top of the highest point in the world and scream
“I love you!”

Straight out of the gate
if you’re standing with hate
then you are my nemesis,
so vacate the premises
because your premise is
parallel to white supremacists.
Your weakness is obvious.
Our problems can’t be solved
by ignorance that abolishes
any semblance of human decency.

Life’s strange variety helps society
overcome unforeseen calamities,
create new works of art
and science that moves us
from here to where we could be
traveling universally,
whilst expanding intellectually.

Your violence
doesn’t help human beings;
It loosens the strings
that tie us together.
Defining a stranger
as a danger
because of their color,
imaginary borders,
or gender identity
doesn’t serve to
strengthen our foundations
but turns earth to rot
as those who have a lot
use the wealth they got
to disseminate hatred,
and take more and more.

I know you love it,
but take your Sexism,
Transphobia, Racism,
and discrimination
and shove it.

-2022 December

imagination is my best drinking buddy
i’ll always pick up the check
on this prison planet, fantasy is the liberator
it pulls down every cloud
undresses the ladies
expunges adultery
pulverizes the patriarchy
obliterates mommy
flattens fatty tissue
bulldozes boredom
annihilates procrastination
decimates iron-poor literature
gobbles up poverty
overthrows the workplace
abolishes taxation
liquidates profit
exterminates capitalism
confuses the cops
torpedoes certainty
trashes common sense
wrecks mortality
exterminates the divine
fantasy, the one-stop shopping mall
of freedom

Truth abounds and bears fruit so sweet
It seizes your heart and makes you complete
If you choose to rise above the storm and fear
If you are willing to face the demon you see in the mirror
The dawn awakens the faith you breathe in
It abolishes the hate you seem to seethe in

Let the darkness in your heart fade away
The light breaches the horizon - seize the new day

You will find whatever it is you seek
You will find your strength or what makes you weak
Whatever you feed within you grows strong
The beauty is you had the strength all along

Take accountability for your own healing
Don't spend your nights staring at the ceiling
Wondering when your life will get better
Instead - write yourself a letter.
Heartfelt and full of compassion
As if written to a friend - needing distraction

Seek after wisdom from heaven above you
Rest in Christ who just wants to love you
Find your mind becoming renewed
Don't let the message become misconstrued

Confront the demons that hold you
Forget all the lies the world sold you
Remember you are what you think you are
Remind yourself - you're a rising star

You ascend up - high in the sky
Finding the faith that makes your spirit fly
Faith in God and yourself as His creation
Finding grace, peace and lasting elation.

Counting
Lovely
Assist
Something soothing
It
Chorus
Abolishes
Lengths