Embattled, the shape in the center of my chest embossed demanding structure

Craving the opposition to loss.

Deserving of success; gifted with the pen

Crying out to you loud and from within.


You know me

Even though there are those that will pretend.

I feel His grace and I can see the light as the moon shines down on this broken world

The battle persists; visible in the lines of experience on my face.


I taste this struggle, it's on the tip of my tongue

How could he not want me, when there is evident proof that I am still the one.

To have, to hold, it's ever changing while my security grays, becoming old

It's funny how things have changed, friends being sought and traded by the affiliates of souls.


My vision is new. The past is old.

It is the journey that has separated us.

It is time to restore, moving forward growing in faith

Our love never growing old.