Legend.

1:40 am what is wrong with me

and why does the past always always, always seem better than the present

and why am i the product of a horrid society

and why can't i just drop my nets and follow the Fisher of men

and why do i feel so empty and useless and heavily sad

like i've got no words in me left
and people are just strangers
just drifting by, catch the glance and throw a smile

sick, sick, sick
there is nothing in this world
nothing

nothing

nothing


but my soul cannot contend for this
this gray area of complacency
and drudgery- and the stifling of a hope
no.
i am created for a Legend
and the dreams that are more bolder
and more beautiful than any guarantee
the green paper offers me
and if these wings fail then surely these knees
will find light
find flight in the wings of He who lifts the broken
Devil just can't see
all i need is a bruising, a breaking and a misery
and that is how hope finds me
my bruises, Devil, call Him nearer
can't hold me down, tell me this grayness
is just what i want
we
are
Revolutionaries
the mouth that harbors the tongue that strikes like the sharpest, steel sword
and the throat that hides the voice that goes from whisper to yelling,
Give me liberty
or give me death.
and the heart that holds the faith that gives you a relationship with God
God, almighty God, God of the daisies and mitochondria and astroids
God who takes a useless, graying soul
breathes hope into it, gives life to it
so that on the 4th, 7th, 19th, 60th time down
He's already counted to infinity and His arms are there every single time
Devil how do you fare
i've got a story
He is my story