You remember that girl, senior year? The one who had too many piercings to count? You assumed she was goth, but you were too afraid to ask for the truth.

You remember that girl, senior year? The one who showed up with bruises like it was show and tell? You assumed she got into fights with other kids, but you were too afraid to ask for the truth.

You remember that girl, senior year? The one who wore either all black, all pink, or all blue? You assumed she liked those colours, but you were to ignorant to ask for the truth.

You remember that girl, senior year? The one who never talked nor smiled? You assumed she was shy, but you were too afraid to ask.

You remember that boy, senior year? The one who spread rumors about the girl? You assumed the rumors were true, and spread them around like a wild fire, but you were too afraid to ask for the truth.

You remember that girl, senior year? The one who was there one day, and disappeared forever? Everyone assumed she transfered schools.. But they were afraid to see the truth.

You remember that girl, right?

The one who played piano and guitar?

The one with straight A's but pushed herself even harder?

The one who painted with silver, and it turned out red?

Well guess what..? If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why she had piercings galore. She would've told you that she liked the pain.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why she showed up with bruises and cuts. She would've told you she was being neglected and abused at home and at school.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why she wore all black, all pink, or blue. She would've told you she was GenderFluid. And that they perferred the pronouns they/them.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why they never talked nor smiled. They would've told you they took mountains of medications for their depression and anxiety.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked if the rumors were true. They would've told you the rumors were false, and to not believe them.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why they left, for the gave you their number. They would've told you "goodbye.."

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked why they tried to improve their grades, even though their grades were above average. They would've told you that their parents' expectations were higher.

If only you asked for the truth. If only you asked anything. Instead, you ignored the kid from senior year.

So. Remember the kid from senior year? The one who killed themselves after finals?

A sword beaten by steel hammers and forged in the fire. The arrow thats pulled back before it is sent into the whiles. A collection of hardship and reprove to understand a time.

Where as demons and angels influence all but stagger a man's walk on a thin wire.
A breathe of resiliance and stubborn heart thats entitled to what He think's he deserves until He knows the truth and his speech is soured.

Egregious revalation to what he has done. He has offended the Creator. He has crucified His son. A confession is made and the war is won but the battle for submission is nearly but one.

A sanctification is initiated and a process is begun. This man's action's and word's are revealed by the sun.
The work that takes place is a tedious and time consuming one but the man's character is revealed to himself and to everyone.

He stuggles to find himself and align himself in the will of God. He yearn's for purpose and does'nt see that each moment is purpose that each exchange matter's. Everything is considered in everything he does.

God enables his obediance when God is often sought. This man comes to find that more often it is not. It is a miracle and blessing he has made it this far. More mercy has been offered than one might oblige. More forgiveness and patience. It is a miracle this man has not died.

Our protagonist finally makes it to the frontline. Where he is not perfect but God's will is pursued. This man speak's out and into open air. Where devils and vipers gather like moths to a flare. They come one by one. Collecting like froth on a stagnant bank. They come to hear this man speak but they're heart's are anything but blank.

His words shoot like arrow's never missing thier mark. He uses The Word as a sword slashing every falsehood, piercing every heart.

He continues through the day into evening's dark. There is but one that stayed. There is but one man among them that get's a new start. So the cycle is transfered but the job is not done. The wars is won but the battle is not just one.

-RSC