I love words. I love art. I love Jesus.
Ransomed captive, free at last, Bound no longer by my past. I'm forgiven, made complete, By God's grace and mercy, sweet;
By D'Shan Berry2 years ago in Poets
Who would I be without trauma? Perchance happier, but less wise; Less needy of medications, But less in tune with others' cries.
Pain is the blackness of carbon, And iron the joy that we feel Placed in the fire of hardships, Together, creates stronger steel.
Counting every letter Each comma and each space, But do we count our character When none can see our face? — Tweeting hate is easy,
I'm sorry," I say, too often — Embarrassed to exist. A lesson given long ago: It's not safe to resist; — Apologize to make things smooth,
And I have asked a thousand whys, And shook my fist at God. I've wept, alone, a million tears Behind a stark facade. — I've wondered, wand'ring in between
Work: Meaning exertion or effort To produce or accomplish something. A definition acid etched Onto my fifth grade self.
You're leaving and I won't get in the way Although I would prefer it if you'd stay I'd never want to hold you back at all
Is this what life was like before I met you? Cold, and dark, and grey, and small, and bare. For, since you've gone, I'm only left to wander
As the days grow darker so so I. The barren trees an echo of my soul; The colder air deflates my heart with sighs; My body aching, longing to be whole.
What happens to a broken vase or plate? Does one throw it out or repair it? Even if one repairs it, the scars would remain,
Jesus sent His followers on their way in groups of two. Said the harvest it is plenty but the laborers are few. He sent them out to do His work among the wolves like lambs,