Funny how I can be so brittle,
Right on the edge of going insane,
And just because of you,
From the first time I even saw your name,
Emotions are a tricky thing,
They try to let you go,
To let you fall in love,
To blind you to the truth,
And then when it really counts,
They give you a good shove,
Back into reality with a jolt,
Cut into your flesh like a lightening bolt,
How can this pain be so real?
I don't even know you,
But I feel like I'm loosing you,
Am I just selfish?
I'll retreat now,
Back into my heart and head,
I'll just try to block the pain instead,
To just shut my eyes and put on a smile,
It's so much easier to lie...

You dont look very happy in contrast to the smile plastered on your face,
Such a fake, nasty happy,
The kind that you just want to hate,
Your fake laugh and fake nails,
Your fake skin and fake eyelashes,
You are just one big made up script,
Something that you don't even know,
Like a creature from another world,
Just here to put on a show,
And for what reason?
Do you think that you can benefit from all this?
Because I don't see a reason why you would want to go on being a glitch,
Stuck in the system of life,
Chaotic and jumbled,
Who should you look to?
Not I or yourself,
But Jesus, the one that is holy and true.

Nail Pierced Hands

when we think of Jesus,
we think of a manger and a Lamb,
a Lion and Man,
We never think of him being beaten and slashed,
A cat of nine tails,
He cried out in anguish, and shook with pain,
But His power prevailed,
They spit in his face and shoved a crown of thorns to his brow,
Though they nailed him to rugged wood that sent splenters down his ragged back,
He hung shameful and pained,
The King of Kings hanging on a rack,
His feet nailed in place,
He could have given up, told His Father, "Take me back!"
And He did it all for me, for those lies that I've told,  for the sins that I've done,
To turn my back on his open arms,
I've been the one to spit in His face,
But His love turned on the alarms,
And sent me running back to his nail pierced hands.

I am who God made me...

I am not who you say I am,
I am not who you perceive me to be,
I am not who you think I should be,
Can't you see?
I don't want to be others little doll or model,
A little piece of nothing, a mold or clay in a bottle,
No different then all the others,
The fakers and makers, while they hide all their troubles,
Underneath all their make-up and skin,
Lies a black heart, darkened from within,
While I sit beside, looking bland and me,
They are all diva's and drama queens,
While they wallow in self-pity and catastrophy,
I sit aside, happy with the life God planned for me.